Ever Changing Circumstances
by Gabigail
Summary: Dear Jason, Writing this letter to you is probably one of the most difficult things I have had to do... Six months after the letter, their paths cross.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

Ever Changing Circumstances

— Ozona, Texas —

Cases that involved children were usually difficult for the team— in particular Special Agent Jason Gideon, who while upholding the façade of calmness, often allowed himself to become emotionally tied to the case; perhaps overly so at times. There was a collective sigh of relief to be going home, the SUVs approached the air strip and the team silently gathered their overnight bags before boarding the plane. Gideon hung back and to any of those who stole a quick glance, would have immediately sensed the black cloud that seemed to surround him as his strong facial features appeared troubled.

Last to board, he stowed his lightly packed bag in a closet and moved towards the front of the plane, settling himself into the tan leather seat—only to actually feel as though the world had placed itself squarely on his usually strong, broad shoulders and he had to close his eyes against the onset of a the headache that felt as though it worked its way from the superior temporal line, right across the frontal eminence— all he knew was that he would have to wait until they were in the air before he could grab an aspirin. It would probably be a severe understatement should anyone say in passing that Gideon had possibly seen the absolute worst that humanity had to offer— and unlike countless others in his position, he was somehow able to uphold his persona of control. Outsiders, in particular seemed to marvel at the fact that if they were too late, it didn't faze him— even if underneath it all, each and every time he took it personally. He also managed the nightmares of the plethora of faces long lost to the hands of another that plagued them as a constant reminder of their failures— only drove him to do his very best in striving to prevent further crimes.

Setting aside the years of study and even more in practical experience under his belt, this particular case left him with more than a sour taste in his mouth— it had actually chilled him far beyond the bone and he felt his whole world crash in around him, which in turn had him questioning why he had been unsuccessful in truly comprehending what the exact driving force was that compelled an individual to commit the horrendous act against others. Acts that that, frightening enough, were not only occurring on a daily basis within society, by at times so close to one's own home it was frightening.

"Because I wanted to." Once more he heard the bone chilling, emotionally void words of a young boy in his mind. A young boy who had murdered a series of classmates as what appeared to be a direct result of his mother's infidelity and the divorce that had followed— he was an innocent child caught in the web of an adult's deception, who could only watch the deconstruction of his family occur right before his eyes. A child, who possibly felt powerless in his role, felt that he had no one to confide in, or had he, that they could not understand the rage that boiled within him. How could a child possibly internalise such extreme emotions? How could a child harbour the amount of anger that Jeffery Charles had? Gideon's eyes remained closed as his thoughts swirled round his mind.

Unable to rest, Reid opened his eyes and caught a quick glance of J.J. gracefully stretched out on the sofa where Elle usually slept— the thought of Elle felt strange and immediately created a sense of emptiness within him. He turned towards Morgan who saw his thin lips moving, but couldn't hear what he said with his iPod on.

"What?" Morgan's tone was hushed as he noticed that Gideon pulled out his cell phone.

"I should have said something to Gideon, or Hotch, or any of you guys. I talked to Elle that night and I knew that she wasn't right, but— I should have told someone." He let his eyes fall to the table as Morgan pulled the earphones from his ears and placed them on the table between them alongside the iPod.

"Reid, listen to me. Do not do that to yourself. You were just trying to help a friend. You hear me? Don't go there kid. Elle made her own choice. This is on her." he picked up his iPod and settled himself back in his seat and watched Reid for a moment, who watched Gideon, who spoke quietly.

"She hasn't admitted anything?" Gideon whispered so that no one over heard and at the same time knowing that if someone had caught bits and pieces, they would know in an instant who he spoke of.

"No." Hotchner replied and Gideon heard something that wasn't quite him in his tone.

"Well, you're doing the right thing." The moment the words lift his lips, he felt that they were wrong, yet at the same time right for the situation.

"Yeah, I know that." There was a slight pause, during which Gideon sensed that it must have been Elle at his door.

"So I'll see you in a few hours."

"Okay." Was Hotchner's reply and with that Gideon pressed the end button on his cell, placed it on the unfolded table in front of him and sighed loudly. Knowing that his mind would not rest and his head had begun to spin in silent protest, the headache gained the upper hand and he finally got up to grab the small bottle of aspirin from his bag and a mug of water, he returned to his seat. After taking a dose, he sunk back in the seat and allowed his chin to rest on his chest in an attempt to forget— if even for a moment, the void that awaited his return.

— Quantico, Virginia —

Once they arrived back at Quantico, Gideon watched as Reid and Morgan walked J.J. to her car talking quietly amongst themselves— J.J. looked back at him and mouthed good night and he waved stiffly in return. He knew that he couldn't go home and with a sigh allowed his feet to guide him, which they did— right to Hotchner's office. The only place where he felt he could find explanation he sought. It was fairly late, close to one-thirty, but there was Hotchner— sitting behind his well organised desk, a thick file lay open across his lap and Gideon soon realised the reason behind his posture. The culprits: The well-kept, soft black leather holster— the gun it sheathed was nestled within, the safety engaged tangled within the loops, the plastic pass card seemed to catch the illumination of the desk lamps soft glow and the leather wallet that kept her badge lay open on top of neat pile— all obviously unmoved, all exactly as she had left them hours earlier. _"I couldn't figure out why you never ever smile. Now I think I'm going to actually miss that."_ Hotchner recalled how her words were filled with such emotion and he found himself wondering if he should have stopped her.

"I'm really going to miss her." he said almost too quietly that Hotchner hardly heard his words.

"Huh?" his head snapped up and his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Elle— I'm really going to miss having her around." Gideon repeated softly, Hotchner could hear the way his lips caressed her name, then morph into defeat before he swallowed hard. "There are so many things left unsaid."

"Yeah, I'm going to miss her too." He replied with a knowing look. "Gideon, do you think that it was intentional?"

"I can't answer that question. I do; however, realise that you have your moral code and what occurred doesn't quite fit into that." He stopped himself from continuing the thought. "It just seems strange to me that she quit. That's not our Elle." Hotchner tilted his head in thought then nodded in agreement.

"I think you're probably right. Although when I come to think of it, nothing has been the same since Elle was shot. You know she's right? If I hadn't sent her home, she wouldn't have been alone— she wouldn't have been vulnerable."

"Hotch, I'm the one who had J.J. call the press conference. You can't take all of the responsibility."

"I know, I just hope that she finds whatever it is that she needs."

"She will— even if it isn't with us. Go home and get some rest. I'm sure that Haley is probably beside herself waiting for you. Besides, I know you'll only be a wreck for the weekend." Gideon's smile warmed his face and Hotchner nodded his agreement reluctantly.

"I know you're right. It just won't be the same without her." he let the file land beside the pile and stood. "I'll see you Monday." He added as he grabbed his briefcase and trench coat. Gideon stood where he was for a moment longer and stared at the items on Hotchner's desk, still somewhat shocked. Remembering the empty box, he kept behinds Hotchner's door, he carefully placed Elle's effects within and closed the lid before he placed it on the floor beside the desk.

When he left Hotchner's office he couldn't avoid looking over the lightly lit bull pen and his eyes refused to avoid Elle's now empty desk. It had been cleared of anything that had personalised it and in an odd way, it stuck out for its obvious nakedness amongst the clutter. He let his bag fall to the floor beside his open door and his sigh echoed in his ears as he walked into his office and ran a hand through his neat, closely cropped hair and stopped just short of sitting in the comfortable old and worn leather chair. The envelope that had been artfully placed upon a pile of books stood out with his name written elegantly by her hand. He stared at it— couldn't help the feeling that it was a "Dear John" letter, he raised his eyebrows and picked up the letter opener. _Dear Jason_. The use of his first name threw him totally off for a moment— she had always referred to him as Gideon, never as Jason. He soon realised that it was not to be read at his desk at work, rather at home and he shoved the pages back into the envelope, folded it in half and placed it into his shirt pocket. Just as quickly, he grabbed his jacket and picked up his overnight bag before literally flying to the elevator.

He sure as hell hadn't slept on the flight from Texas, his over active mind and heavy heart wouldn't allow sleep to win in capturing him within the safety of her web-like embrace and he knew she would not come tonight. The grandfather clock in the study struck three o'clock as he closed and locked the front door behind. To gather his thoughts, he pressed his back against the solid door for a moment, as if seeking support before he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the carved banister. He bent to unlace his comfortable running shoes and left them at the foot of the stairs on his way to the kitchen. Not bothering with lights, the rapid flashing of the answering machine's message waiting caught his eye, yet at the same time the soft rustle of the letter tucked within his shirt pocket lured him back to reality. Oh Elle, he thought as he rummaged around for something that would take the edge off, something that would assist in dulling the heavy pain within his chest— alleviate dread's iron grip of his heart. All chemical, he knew all too well and even scolded himself lightly. He found the bottle he had been looking for, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen table. Always having the talent to stall, he knew he couldn't ignore it— couldn't ignore the crinkle that reminded him of the reason for racing home.

There will be no more stalling, he sighed as if it would grant him courage as he knew that what the pages contained were the answers he sought. A quick glance at the empty glass he sat himself, rather slouched at the kitchen table. The empty glass pleaded to be filled with the smooth amber liquid from the nearby bottle, but he denied it; instead, placing the envelope on the table and the salutation _Dear Jason_ fluttered in his mind as he stared it down for another moment. He thought once more if there had been an occasion when she had called him by his first name, yet could not think of one. Jason? Why now? He mused as he got out his glasses and perched them in their familiar place on the bridge of his nose— carefully, he slipped the pages out from their sheath and managed to keep himself focused as he unfolded the pages. His nose immediately picked up the faint fragrance of Elle on the pages and he closed his eyes as if bracing himself for what he could only imagine the letter contained.

**_Dear Jason,_**

**_Writing this letter to you is probably one of the most difficult things I have had to do; and I am well aware of the fact that all I commit to these pages ought to be said to you in person. I feel as though I am hiding— using the page as a protective barrier between us. Hiding behind the words left unspoken. After wrestling with the issue and knowing that you deserve to be told in person, I fear that if that were to be the case, I would completely lack the courage to actually voice the things that I have kept hidden from you for so long. It honestly feels incredibly peculiar that while I write this, I actually feel as though I know what you are thinking and despite this fact, I have to tell you something that I know you don't wish to hear. The truth is you need to know this— that my choosing to leave the BAU has everything and nothing to do with you._**

**_When I look back upon our first meeting, I am almost certain that I was a completely different person than I am today. At first, I was unsure how to take you, as you probably know that you are the most difficult person to get an actual read on— which I am sure is the way you like it. I will say this: Your reputation certainly precedes you on each and every level, and you are, quite frankly everything that they say; and in my eyes far more. As sappy as this sounds, and you know how un-sappy I am, I will forever cherish the experience and knowledge that I have earned while under your giving wing. I assure you that I will never take any of it for granted— as I truly believe that in your own way, you have taught me one of the most difficult lessons. That of patience— an obvious character flaw that you were so quick in pointing out. I feel that it is very important to thank you for your patience in teaching me that important lesson; along with the countless others._**

A faint chuckle worked its way from deep within his throat as he recalled their first meeting. She hadn't been officially told that she was on the team; it was a quasi-test to see how well she fit into their pre-existing team and the void left behind by their last team mate. Elle had shown that she was as eager to fit in with the team as becoming a member; both he and Hotchner had been confident that she had and would continue to be an asset to the team. She was incredibly dedicated, conscientious, intelligent, and willing. What an absolute fool I am, he though as his own memories of their meeting flooded his mind. He thought about how her energy fuelled him and how despite the fact that they had not worked together prior to the Vogel case, he had felt that he could trust her to have his back. Thank goodness she was also a crack shot— if not, Vogel's shot may have indeed been far more than a mere scratch.

_**It has been very difficult journey in deciding which path I will choose— I have always felt as though I had been geared towards the BAU. That the team would definitely be where I would be 'home'. However, this mentality in combination with falling as fast and hard in your eyes as I have, creates a bit of a problem. I have been so incredibly driven that I have forgotten something very important, that being how to truly live— I have forgotten what it means to be human, to feel the things that I am supposed to feel— see the world as I once have. Yet I have also lost a major part of myself, which might be a contributing factor; that being passion, which I hope one day to find once more.**_

_**I have never been very good at apologising; however, I feel that it is incredibly relevant that you and the team know that what happened with Garner wasn't your fault. At first, I admit that I blamed Hotchner because he sent me home and right into the nightmare that followed. And I blamed you for not being there to protect me. In essence, it is far easier to blame others when something so traumatic happens; and it was incredibly selfish of me to lash out the way I did. It was completely inappropriate and to top it off, I have a sinking feeling that I managed to drag Reid into the tangled web as well. Eventually, the scar will heal completely, maybe in time will fade completely; so too will the emotional wounds that still plague me.**_

_**Even though I wasn't aware of it at the time, Hotchner told me that the two of you waited it out while I was in surgery. I have thanked him for that, yet I wanted to thank you for being the first person I saw once I came around. Your warmth made me realise that at the root I've always felt something far deeper for you than mere respect and admiration— that whole experience only confirmed what I had been denying for the past year.**_

He felt that it was unfair that she had the opportunity to stir something deep within himself that he too had tried to keep at bay. I wish I could tell you the depth of my guilt Elle, he had to stop reading and plucked the glasses from his nose with a heavy, emotion filled sigh, and he rubbed his temples with the rush of more memories. He recalled how he and Hotchner took over a tiny lounge while they waited for her to make it through the surgery; all the while, he worried that she would never forgive him his error. It wasn't hard to want to be there when she woke up. No one should wake up alone— and he recalled how it wasn't just out of guilt. He had selfishly wanted to be the first face she saw. It was odd to him that his heartstrings were so easily pulled and so tightly by her; and yet he had said nothing— he wordlessly took her small, clammy hand in his to offer her comfort.

_**I know, I know, I shouldn't go here, but I have to. With respect to the whole Lee incident, I cannot regret what happened. I know that you want to know what truly happened on the night in question. Jason, in that moment I admit that I was beside myself with panic. There I was in someone else's home, under the guise that it was mine and all I could see was Garner standing over me with his gun drawn. I wanted, no— I needed to confront Lee. After what had happened I needed to redeem myself in the eyes of the team— to be more specific, I needed to redeem myself in your eyes. All of this is moot now as the events have unfolded as they have and I'm quite literally left with the smoking gun. I didn't kill him out of spite, or just because I could. I am not a cold hearted killer— I only shot out of self defence. He had a gun and in that moment it was him or me, and I chose him. I may not regret that night; however, what I do regret is the fact that I didn't listen to you when you pulled me aside. I knew then as I do now, that you were only being you— which I know is something that I am truly going to miss. I have a confession, besides the fact that I knew you were right, I chose to hurt you. I hurt you the only way I knew how— and that was to push you away. As I look back, I realise that in that short moment, I had done far more damage between us than I ever could in a lifetime, for which I am so very sorry for what I have done and can only hope that you will one day forgive me.**_

Oh my dear, in that moment; his breath caught in his throat and when he finally allowed it to escape his drying lips and he shook his head in utter defeat and disbelief. Elle, the bureau cleared you of the charges, just as Callahan said they would. I only wish Hotch could have gotten over it. I had always believed you to be innocent; perhaps at the time naively— I still believe that while we do not have the whole story, you would not have just shot a man in cold blood.

**_In essence, what all of this boils down to is the simple fact that I have disappointed you far more times then I can count. How could I stay on, knowing that every time you looked at me, you saw a cold hearted killer. I am not as strong as you thought me to be— I wish I were; then perhaps I would have the courage to say all of this to you and leaving the BAU with the proper goodbye. Of all apologies written, disappointing you is probably the most difficult. The fact that I lack the courage to see you one last time is an incredibly close second. Please take care of yourself and the team while out there chasing the monsters that prey upon the weakest members of society. Perhaps our paths will cross once more and in your eyes, I will be the woman that you once knew. The woman who, because of you, will push herself to become far more than she is and once was. I also hope that you find the woman who realised it too little too late that her feelings for you run deep._**

**_Yours, _****_Elle_**

He felt the energy, a surge of regret wash over him and he wished that she was with him so that he might have the chance to share with her the countless things he too had wanted to say but hadn't— always thinking that there was time. Oh Elle, if you only knew— perhaps things might have been different, he thought and allowed the pages to slip from between calloused fingers and thumbs to the table where they landed on the open envelope. As quickly as the emotion had grabbed a strong hold of him, he reached out for the bottle and finally filled the awaiting glass with a splash of the soothing amber liquid before he brought it to his lips. He knew that the relief that it would grant him would only be temporary; however, at that particular moment, he didn't care if it took ten bottles. He leaned his elbows on the pine tabletop, ran his hand over his face inhaling much-needed air and finally took the last drop into his mouth— he let it roll over his tongue and slide down his throat. Drinking usually led to thinking and remembering the good and bad memories wasn't always the best of choices— yet Gideon found himself squarely reconsidering his options. If, after Haley's arrival with the envelope, he hadn't made the rash decision to have J.J. hold that damn press conference. Had he not agreed when Hotchner had sent Elle home— she would have never been vulnerable, she would never have been shot, and he wouldn't be left sitting at his kitchen table reading her letter— he allowed his hand to caress the pages once more and when his eyes rested upon the small blotches on the page made him pause in thought. Tear drops? He thought and held the page up to the light for further inspection. Oh, my sweet Elle, it is I who ought to be sorry, he thought and glanced at his watch. Guilt stricken, he knew that sleep would deny him, yet he had just experienced an incredibly emotional day— he turned his back on the bottle and left the kitchen in the hopes of falling into bed and into an exhausted driven sleep. When and if he awoke, he would rise from the nightmare and things would have returned to the way had been prior to the Garner case.

— Gideon's Office BAU —

It had been nearly six months to the day Gideon had read what even Elle had admitted to as a sad excuse of a farewell letter— and as he sat at his desk mulling over an invitation to speak at a conference, the telephone ringing brought him from deciding whether or not to attend; and if he attended which of his agents would he take to accompany him. He snatched the receiver and brought it to his ear.

"Gideon." He addressed the unknown caller.

"Jason?" it was a familiar voice on the other end and his lips were tickled by a smile. She hadn't called in a long while and he had thought perhaps she had forgotten about him. "You sound rather stressed." He let his pen fall onto the page and sat back in his seat.

"Oh my dear, you have no idea." He chuckled lightly as he removed his glasses and placed them on a low stack of books that sat on his cluttered desk.

"Don't tell me that you haven't been out and about." Her tone was sassy, which peaked his interest.

"I've been busy." He sat back in his seat.

"Busy avoiding the obvious." She teased, "I know you, Jason. It starts with a few rain cheques and ends with you cooping yourself up at home, or isolating yourself at your cabin."

"It would appear that you know me all too well."

"Well this is an invitation that there are absolutely no rain checks for." She paused and received a grunt of protest from him. Ignoring his response she rolled her eyes and thought for a moment. "Well I have a proposal that might just get you out of your rut."

"Oh really?" she could hear his cocked eyebrow in his tone.

"How is your case load?" she ignored his sarcasm.

"I don't wish to jinx anything, but it has been rather light since the incident with Reid." He replied. "I was just filling out the paperwork to speak as a guest lecturer at NYU." His lips kept the grin he wore.

"When is that?"

"Let me see here," she heard him shuffle through papers. "Here it is— it's the week of the nineteenth."

"Well then my proposal won't interfere with your trip."

"I didn't say whether I was going or not."

"True. In any case, you won't have an excuse not to join me for dinner. It's been a while since we've spent time together catching up on things."

"Yes, you're right my dear this slump is rather draining. What exactly did you have in mind?" he waited for her proposal, which would allow him to weigh the pros and cons.

"I know how much you love good food and dancing the night away." He heard the tilt of her head and could envision her raven locks falling over her shoulder.

"Two of my favourites." He replied and their conversation interrupted by the brush of knuckles on his door. He lifted his head in response and Emily stood tall hugging a thick file to her chest. "I have to call you back." He said flatly and quickly cradled the phone. "You appear to be troubled." He beckoned her to step further into his office.

"Gideon, I've been going over the Callahan file." She held out the file and he picked up his glasses, quickly perching the little plastic nosepieces back in their indent on his nose. "There are so many inconsistencies."

"May I ask who asked you to go poking around?" he inquired and didn't mean for his tone to be as harsh as it was, but he had been spending far too much time thinking of Elle and didn't need to be reminded of her downfall.

"I overheard Agent Hotchner speaking to Morgan about Reid and Elle's name came up. I only wanted to help." Her expression actually fell slightly.

"I realise that what Reid has experienced was incredibly traumatic; however, I fail to see the connection."

"That's where you're wrong. As I've dug through supporting evidence, Agent Hotchner's as well as your own assessments and reports, I noticed that the same panel that reviewed Reid's first brush with killing a suspect in self-defence reviewed Elle's file and Reid's most recent situation. In all cases, they determined that actions taken where justifiable and they were both cleared of any charges. Reid is still here and Elle isn't. What happened to her Gideon?"

"Did it not say in her file that she was shot? That she nearly died because of me?"

"You didn't send her home."

"No I did not, but I had J.J. call the press conference. "Emily, why are you pursing this?" he sighed heavily and finished going over the last page of Reid's assessment.

"I'm not pointing fingers, but it's because we failed her."

"We?" he shook his head in protest. "I failed her. The only thing I could do was be there for her when she woke up. Look, Emily you cannot just come in and stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Reid is still here and Elle is not. We have to accept that and by all accounts move forward."

"Perhaps, but you seemed to have resented my joining your team right from the get go."

"I'm not going to have this discussion with you. Do whatever it is that you must, but please leave me out of it."

"I'm only trying to find out why Elle was never scheduled for a console and Reid was. Nor did they follow up without Hotchner pushing them."

"What?"

"It's been established that Lee had a weapon; it was as much self-defence for Elle as it was for Reid. An internal investigation of Callahan has her being brought up on a plethora of charges. It isn't right that Elle left believing that her team didn't trust or believe her— that she had made the right choice. Granted, she probably shouldn't have confronted Lee in the first place."

"So I was right then?" he whispered under his breath and felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders.

"I'm sorry?"

"I knew that Elle still needed time. I knew that she shouldn't have gone undercover and that when she felt as though she had messed up the initial plan— I knew that she would go and do something so irrational." His head shook as he spoke. She took the file he held out for her and turned to leave. "I didn't have the chance to ask you. How do you compartmentalise so well?"

"It was just something that I had to do. I am the daughter of parents who have worked in the government all of my life. It's all I know." She said and left him to his thoughts. It occurred to him that letting loose might be needed and picked up the telephone— dialling the number from memory.

Always the gentleman, dressed for dinner and dancing, Gideon stood outside her door waiting. He heard the gentle click of her heels on the tiled floor and a click before the door opened. Her face lit up and her smile warm and caring, just as he remembered it.

"You're a bit early, please come in." she opened the door wider and stepped aside; he placed an arm around her slender waist and kissed her cheek softly. "Starting so soon?" she raised an eyebrow and closed the door, locking it quickly. "I have your favourite if you'd like, help yourself. I just need to finish getting ready." She said as she sauntered upstairs, leaving him to wander through the familiar home. Everything was just as he fondly remembered it. He stepped into the living room and out of habit quickly assessed the room. Photographs of them were still on the mantle, the painting he had brought her from a quick trip to DC that he had known was perfect for her hung on the far wall. He sighed and sat himself on the cream leather sofa. Her return was signalled by her clearing her throat as he hadn't heard her heels on the tile floor.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I brought this for you." He held out the box and she gracefully accepted the gift. Opening the box she literally beamed.

"Oh Jason!" she exclaimed and set the book in the box and placed it aside, standing she wrapped her arms around his neck. "How did you know that I have been searching high and low for a copy?"

"I have my sources." He replied coyly. "Shall we?" he stood and led her towards the door, quickly getting her coat and holding it out for her.

"Thank you." She replied and they made their way out to his black SUV and he drove them to the restaurant.

The host seated them in a soft lit secluded corner where one could sit back and observe the restaurants patrons and the dancers already on the dance floor without being spotted. The dividers had beautiful lattice work and lush greens that climbed towards the high ceiling— some even had colourful flowers in bloom. Gideon perused the menu and decided on his dish— pretending he had not decided, he peered over his menu at his companion. She was radiant by the glow of the lone candle that gently burned to the soft music the live band on the stage played. The soft chords of the piano lured his attention towards the stage and the singer returned from her break, stepped up to the microphone and began to sing; softly at first and her voice melded perfectly with the accompaniment— the perfect marriage of vocal and instrumental.

_You must remember this,__A kiss is still a kiss,  
a sigh is just a sigh.  
__The fundamental things apply,  
__As time goes by(1)._

"They are very good." He commented quietly.

"I've been coming here with Ted and Deanna off and on for a couple of months now. I made sure that it was the house band tonight." She smiled sweetly and the waiter interrupted their moment. After taking their orders, he dashed to the kitchen.

"How long has this place been open?"

"Oh I would say three or four years at least. Ted and Deanna have been introducing me to new experiences." She looked down for a moment. "Jason, I just wanted to thank you again for the book, it was a lovely gesture." She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. "Just for the record, it's been too long."

"I know. I've been busy with work."

"When are you going to realise that you can't hide behind work forever." She grinned. "So, what is the lecture in New York about?"

"If I'm not mistaken it's a first year psychology lecture. I haven't quite worked out the details."

"Sounds right up your alley." She replied as their food arrived. "Thank you. You know Jason— you really need to loosen up." He smiled at her jest and started to poke at the pasta. The remainder of the meal was just as fun as old times— they were able to catch up on each others lives and even shared a few long running jokes.

_The thrill of the thought that you might give me a thought to my plea  
__Cast a spell over me  
__Still I say to myself get a hold of yourself  
__Can't you see that it never can be._

Gideon held out his hand towards her and she accepted his dance invitation. Just as she had hoped— that they would dance the night away, that she would feel his arms wrapped around her once more. More than that, she knew that he needed the comfort that holding someone brought you; it reminded you that you were alive. He took her to the only open place on the floor and slowly as if he were remembering how to dance, he let his body feel the steady pulse of the music and held her hand within his as he wrapped her graceful, slender form with a strong, comforting arm and they began to move to the music.

_You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise,  
__Like a summer with a thousand Julys.  
__You intoxicate my soul with your eyes,  
__Though I'm certain that this heart of mine,  
__Hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance,  
__You go to my head(2). _

Gently guiding her in a spin, he opened himself to her and wrapped his arms around her small frame, their bodies pressed comfortably together and swayed in union gracefully amongst the sea of dancers. As the end of the song drew near, they heard the quick change in tempo, the sudden surge of rhythm as the horn section opened the number with their quick staccato notes and the singer began to sway her hips in time to the music.

_When marimba rhythms start to play  
__Dance with me, make me sway  
__Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore  
__Hold me close, sway me more._

So wrapped up within the happiness and freedom of the moment, Gideon actually allowed himself to live in the moment and tossed his guard aside, he and his companion looked into each others eyes and forgot about the other dancers. They weren't the only ones caught in the act of enjoying themselves. Another couple had joined the sea of dancers and had worked their way around the floor.

_Other dancers may be on the floor dear,  
__But my eyes will see only you  
__Only you have that magic technique  
__When we sway I go weak  
__I can hear the sounds of violins  
__Long before it begins  
__Make me thrill as only you know how  
__Sway me smooth, sway me now(3)._

He wasn't sure who backed into whom— all he knew was that he was face to face with Elle. The heat rose to his cheeks as they did in hers.

"My apologies, allow me to buy you a drink." Her partner said quickly. Gideon didn't quite know what to say and the look on his face was priceless— that of someone who had just seen a ghost.

"Jason, are you all right?" he turned towards Doris and nodded. Elle grabbed her companions arm and tried to drag him off the dance floor.

"Excuse me." He whispered in her ear and followed Elle and her companion as they quickly left the floor. "Elle!" he called and managed to catch up. "You quit the BAU, leave me a 'Dear John' letter and what? Never expect to see me again?" he demanded as he felt the heat rise within him— a hint of jealousy perhaps? He was unsure. No sooner had the words left his lips, he regretted coming off as a spoiled young man. Her companion seemed to understand their need to speak and bowed out.

"I'm sorry." Was all she could manage; she could hardly look at him. He reached out and placed a hand softly on her shoulder.

"For what? For everything that you had to go through. For not knowing how truly sorry I am for my part in you nearly dying?"

"You don't understand, leaving was the best thing I could have done. It occurred to be that had it been you, I would have been well beside myself with worry. I would have actually fallen to pieces had anything happened to you. It was easier to leave, far easier for me not to have to think about it. To admit to myself how I felt about you." She turned her face away and quickly brushed the tear from her cheek.

"Elle, you never gave me the chance." He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. Her face was just as he remembered it. Just as he had dreamt so many nights. "I have always trusted and believed in you." He just managed to say before she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

"Thank you." She looked up at him slightly embarrassed by her sudden burst of emotion. "I'm sorry. I'm still getting the hang of feeling." She smiled shyly and he cupped her face once more.

"Is he?"

"An amazing friend who thought to yank me from my rut." She replied and glanced over at his dinner companion.

"Doris is a very old friend." He said and wrapped her within his strong embrace. "She thought that it would do me good to get out. Apparently this restaurant is a very popular place." He didn't want to step back, but he knew that it would be inappropriate to hold her any longer. "I still have your letter."

"You kept it?" he nodded with a smile that lit his face right up. She missed his face, how it could be unreadable one moment and open the next. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have. How could I stay upset with you. I had nearly lost you forever— and I was elated when you pulled through. I was looking forward to working with you once more. Perhaps that's still a possibility."

"Oh Jason, I'm not coming back to the BAU. I've found what makes me happy." She leaned in towards him and gently kissed his cheek. "Perhaps you and I could get together and catch up." She suggested thinking that they just had.

"I would like that." He replied and hugged her gently. "You have my number." She nodded as her friend returned with her coat and held it up for her to slide her arms in. "Good night." He said and her face beamed as he led Doris back to their table.

"Good night." She whispered and allowed her companion to lead her out into the crisp night.

(1) "As Time Goes By" Herman Humpfeld (1931 – Everybody's Welcome)  
(2) "You Go To My Head" J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie (1938)  
(3) "Sway" Pablo Beltran Ruiz/Norman Gimbel (1954 recorded by Dean Martin)

Author's Note: 

This story has a bit of angst, some darkness, and a touch of light— full of would have, should have, could have, but didn't. I will say that it was a bit difficult to write because in doing so, I had to go through accepting the fact that Elle is gone and we're stuck with Emily (I mean no offence to those who like the character, I personally have yet to actually warm up to her). In any case, I apologise for the awful title as I'm really not that 'creative' when it comes to giving a story its title. Regarding spoilers/potential spoilers— I've kept it to referencing The Fisher King (plopping this story approximately four to five months after Aftermath, which would allow for Revelation and plucking a quote from the Boggyman). I hope that you have enjoyed the story and if you have any comments and or suggestions please feel free to leave it in the review section or drop me a PM.


	2. Follow Through

Elle had thought of herself as a woman of her word. If she said that she would be somewhere, she was always there; if she said that she would do something for someone, she did; and if her shoulder was needed, she always gave it— no questions asked. While a complicated matter, she had attributed her incredibly strong sense of strength, honour, and duty as being ingrained in her right from birth— more than likely a direct by-product from her father. However, in this particular case— this time her word left her wondering what she had been thinking. Better yet, had thought ever entered the equation when she opened her mouth and suggested that they meet? Sure, in that moment the world appeared to have fallen away— their dinner companions left by the wayside while they quickly verbalised only the surface of what had plagued them during their time apart. Had it really only been a few short minutes? We exchanged words; and he sweetly cupped my cheek— then I kissed him? Her hand flew to her cheek where the tingly sensation was the only evidence of his gentle caress. Her mind reprocessed their encounter, and she recalled the look in his eyes when she said that she wouldn't return to the BAU— it was such a subtle change. His usually so soft brown eyes darkened, which obviously legitimised the hurt expression that he could not stop from creeping across his smooth features. She closed her eyes once more in a second attempt to process the swirling emotions within her; amongst them was an odd sense of relief— had he actually forgiven me? But how when I sure as hell wouldn't have, she mused realising that was something that was very special about him.

Still deep in thought, still reviewing their chance meeting, she opened her eyes to the shimmer of the gentle glow of the street lamps light that danced across the windshield— the only sound heard was the engine and the swish of cars as they past. She silently watched the traffic, if only it could free her of thought— and yet, she found herself still wondering. What the hell were you thinking? How could you have made such an irrational suggestion? The tone in her mind matched one she would have easily used on an unsuspecting un-sub. Stopping her internal scolding for a moment, she realised how deafening the silence between her and her usually very talkative companion actually was. She also noted that it was not of the comfortable or comforting kind shared between two friends. It had taken a moment to sink in, but she soon realised that his silence meant far more than simple words ever could. He kept his focus on the road ahead, unable to steel a quick glance and she knew it— and felt chilled as if a blanket of ice had enclosed itself around them. When she had managed to glance his way, his posture revealed all— how had she not seen it before? She thought briefly then realised the simplest of answers; she had not wanted to. Now, his non-verbal cues spoke volumes— and rejection seemed to ooze from every pour, making her feel far worse then she already did. The conversation that ought to take place between them, probably never would; so they would have to find a way to work around the sudden shared awkwardness. As he pulled into the driveway of her flat, she undid the seatbelt and turned towards him— in an odd attempt to thaw some of the ice, smiled. Yet, she still felt the freeze as it tightened its hold on them. He nodded in silence and she opened the door, swung her long legs to the side and gracefully got out of the sports car.

"Thanks again, for getting me out of my rut." She said quietly.

"No problem. We'll talk later." He said and she closed the door.

The crisp winter wind caressed her face and nearly blew her up the short walkway towards the grand entrance. The tempered glass doors quickly slid open to receive her and shut just in time to block another gust of wind that attempted to sneak in behind. The concierge, a bubbly young man dressed in the traditional black and white suit; had a brass name tag that caught the luminous florescent light as he waved with a bright smile. Nodding, she held up her key card towards the free standing sensor and the second set of doors parted. It was a wonderful stroke of luck that an elevator happened to be waiting in the airy lobby and she quickly stepped in, and pressed the brass coloured button for her floor. Home sweet home, she mused and not a minute too soon— the doors parted. She stepped onto her floor and walked towards her door. Quickly unlocking the door, she effortlessly closed and locked it. The sound of metal brushing against metal signalled that the chain was securely in place. In one fluid motion, she slipped off her black evening coat, left her shoes beside the door and hung her coat in the closet. Not bothering with the lights, she padded to her bedroom in her nightshade stocking feet. The carpet felt like a comfortable, thick cushion; supporting her tired feet. As she carefully unzipped the little black dress she wore, a loud sigh escaped her crimson painted lips, as the silky material slipped down her pale, lean body and she quickly hung it in the walk-in closet. Just as careful as she had been with her dress, she unclipped her thigh highs, rolling the stockings down her lean muscular thighs and well-toned calves and placed them in the hand wash pile that she kept aside for her sexy lingerie. Feeling the carpet under bare feet, a content smile worked its way over her lips and she headed towards the bathroom— on the way, she pulled the clip that held her hair in a neat twist, freeing the thick soft espresso, chocolate highlighted locks. With a gentle wisp the loose waves fell around her shoulders. Placing the clip in the box that sat on the marble topped vanity she ran her fingers through the silky tresses.

It felt wonderful to free herself of the remaining under garments, a black satin lace bra and matching panties, and she reached for a fluffy powder green towel with neutral painted fingernails and placed it on the towel rack beside the shower stall, then ran the hot water. Stepping into the shower, she pulled the frosted glass door shut, and stood under the water; letting it gently wash over her body— let it trickle over the still fading scar that made its way from just below her delicate clavicle and gently grazed the top of her breast. Tilting her face towards the water, she somehow hoped that it would wash away the remnants of her chance encounter, erase the urge to go to the telephone and call him— most importantly ease the restlessness that had over taken reason that seeing him involuntarily provoked within. She ran her slight hands over her face to wipe the water from her eyes and reached for the lightly scented shampoo. Lathering her hair, she smiled again and with eyes still closed picked up the soap— artfully running it along her body. She knew this moment couldn't last, that the water would soon run ice cold and reality would reign once more— grabbing and holding her tightly within its iron grasp. Rinsing the soap from her hair and body, she finally turned off the water and blindly plucked the towel— quickly ran it over her wet hair until it was damp and then wrapped it around herself, securing it around her chest and stepping out of shower into what had literally become a sauna. Oops, water must have been far too hot, she thought with a smirk and picked up her hair brush; ran it through her still damp locks. Washing her face, she went through her regular routine— a gentle cleanser, a quick spritz of toner, followed by a generous dab of moisturiser before turning to retrieve the deep burgundy silky shift that hung on a hook on the back of the door. She brought the shift over her head and let it slide down her body. It felt wonderful to feel exhausted— she found herself grateful to, for the first time since leaving the BAU, surrender herself; warn body and fragile heart to the loving embrace of slumber. She peeled back the covers, sat on the soft mattress lifting her feet up and pulled the soft down-filled comforter and sheets over to make herself comfortable, and allowed her heavy eyelids to close.

The situation could not have been more perfect— so perfect, in fact, that it felt fixed. It was as if on cue the dancers on the dance floor suddenly dispersed and returned to their respective tables; and just as quickly vanished all together. All that remained was Jason and herself, surrounded only by the gentle comfort of darkness, which was sporadically broken by soft pocket lighting that gave the illusion of bright stars, while the light smoke of dry ice floated gracefully in soft whirls across the floor, and the sweet caress of the vocalist and her band. The look on his face was priceless, his smile widened at her arrival and he held out his hand, beckoning her. She tilted her head in hesitation, for her first thought had been that this is all just a dream and I will awake before it gets good. Ignoring the thought, she flashed a bright, confident smile and stepped towards him, allowing his warm, calloused fingers to capture her hand within his. She felt the warmth that radiated from his body as he wrapped his arm around her slender frame, his fingers lightly brushed against her long, bare back. Taking a much-needed breath, she inhaled the scent of his cologne, the sharpness of his aftershave and the light notes of the shampoo and whatever styling product he used— all of which merged together in creating a scent that was entirely him. She managed to relax her mind and sway to the music— allowed herself to just be, to feel and enjoy the moment. For, while it felt as though time had stood perfectly still— it would soon draw to an end. As the last chord resonated around them, ever so slowly fading into nothingness as if loosing their grip, they continued to sway to music only they heard. They clung to each other in an embrace in comfort sought and found in one another. He let go of her hand only long enough to draw her closer to him, pressing her lean body against his own and their eyes locked; he then rested his forehead against hers and allowed their noses to meet. The moment was suddenly broken by the sound of a loud alarm, breaking their moment apart.

In a near miss, she swung her arm towards the offending sound, her fingers frantically searched for the alarm clock that buzzed on the night stand.

"What the?" her words were soft. Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes. "Damn." She cursed as she soon realised that it had only been a dream, as she was in her room, wrapped safely within the cocoon of sheets and the fluffy warm comforter. She wished she had fought the urge to turn her head, as she had somehow been expecting someone to be there, she was greeted by an empty bed. A loud moan of frustration worked its way from deep within and she quickly got herself comfortable, curled herself slightly on her side, knees drawn up as though sitting in a chair— so had there been someone there, he could easily have scooped her up in his arms. She felt the coolness on her bare back and tugged at the comforter, bringing it up to mould to her form and closed her eyes once more— it was Saturday morning and after the night she had had, another half hour of sleep wouldn't hurt.

—Miami, Florida: Conference Room—

It was obvious to those around him that he was waiting for an important phone call— he attempted to quietly check his message for the umpteenth time. It really was an odd feeling, but his heart actually fell when he didn't hear her voice. Perhaps I dreamt of our encounter? He mused, his emotion written on his face as he closed his cell phone before placing it back in his pocket.

"She hasn't called?" Hotchner inquired quietly— he had seen Gideon act like this once or twice before; however, it had never this intense. She must really be something, he thought. More than just a passing fling or faze.

"She, who?" was Gideon's reply. Hotchner pulled him aside and lowered his voice.

"Jason, I've seen you like this before. The last time you were over the moon for some coroner— remember? What was her name?" he paused in thought, "Brenda." Gideon shook his head as if this was different.

"Hotch, its nothing." He replied as Prentiss assumed her position at the font of the room, placing her notepad on the table in front of her.

"From what we have seen so far, its fairly obvious that our un-sub enjoys the hunt." She began.

"I agree, I would say that he probably spends a great deal of time just watching his victim." Morgan added and leaned himself against the windows wide ledge. Reid unfolded his arms and paced towards them.

"It might be possible that he already knows his intended victim. That would make it easier to have the opportunity to spend the time with his victim. Besides, if you were to plot the addresses of his victims, they appear to be well within a five to ten mile radius." He pointed to a map that had been taped onto a see-trough plastic board. J.J. tilted her head in thought.

"Judging from the injuries sustained by the victims prior to death, I honestly doubt that he has much skill. Look here," she pointed at one of the photos. "If these weren't defensive wounds, then they are very shallow."

"So one would be able to accurately presume that by his sixth victim, we should be seeing a more confident, more efficient, more purpose to his actions." Morgan picked up another photo. "We're not." He let it fall back onto the table. "This is ridiculous! We've been sitting here bouncing ideas off one and another— and for what? We don't have a profile worth expanding on, we don't even have a viable plan." He stopped in mid thought as the low rumble of someone's stomach broke through. "I agree with that. We need a break." He shook his head and glanced towards Gideon and Hotchner, who both nodded their agreement. With that, the team headed out towards the parking lot and the awaiting SUVs.

"So long as it isn't Chinese, I'm good." Reid called and climbed into the back seat of one of the SUVs.

"Reid, you still haven't learned to eat with chopsticks yet?" Morgan teased.

"So I guess sushi is out." Prentiss murmured under her breath.

"It's pretty much up to Hotch and Gideon. So wherever we end up, we end up." Morgan's smile reminded her of a television actor she had come across during one of her many sleepless nights. Compartmentalisation was always easier during the walking hours— not so much during the witching hour. The SUV pulled into a parking lot and to Reid's dismay, it was Chinese. He heard Morgan trying to contain his low chuckle and felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Gee, thanks." He said under his breath as they got out and entered the restaurant. "This time I'm getting a fork." He felt Morgan's jab and made a face at him in response.

—Quantico, Virginia—

She had arrived home from work well over an hour ago, yet at the thought of him, her heart did flip flops and her stomach quickly followed suit as she resolved to pick up the cordless phone. Her slender fingers deftly caressed the numbers, poised ready to dial; yet something stopped her. Fear perhaps? She was unsure and instead decided that dinner would be a better idea. It had only been three days since their meeting. I feel as though I'm back in high school again, she nearly laughed out loud at her silliness as she rose from the soft comfortable sofa and made her way to the kitchen. Rummaging around the refrigerator, she gathered the ingredients for a quick meal for one. As she set herself at the counter, she realised that it was far too quiet and headed back to the living room to pop in a CD. Turning it up, Matt Dusk's voice filled the empty space. She had always found cooking far more enjoyable with good music and a glass of wine. Not only that— it did what it was supposed to do. Take her mind off him. Once the meal was prepared, eaten, and the dishes cleared; Elle thought she needed to quickly go over her notes, she quickly divided the next day's appointments, and organised her follow-ups before deciding to settle down for the evening with a good book.

—Miami, Florida: A Hotel Room—

Heavy hearted, he stood at the large picture window staring out at the bright lights and misty purplish night sky, in deep thought. Perhaps I was wrong—his sigh was loud and caught Hotchner's attention.

"Jason, you seem rather distracted." He said and lifted his head from the file he had been going over. Gideon took a moment to compose himself before turning to face him. "A lot on your mind?" he added and let the tan cardboard file rest on this thigh. A slight nod was his answer and he brushed away at some imaginary dust on his shirt.

"I keep thinking that we're missing something that's right in front of us." He settled himself in the chair across from Hotchner.

"Seriously Jason, whatever has you so distracted— I mean your mind is completely elsewhere. It's as though you're truly not here with us on this case. And you're keeping something bottled up, aren't you?" Gideon's attempt to avert his serious, intense brown eyes gave Hotchner all the ammunition he required— especially when he caught a glimmer of something. "Who is she?" he inquired as he pressed his earlier inquiry— determined to have an answer to his question.

"Hotch, you wouldn't understand." He replied simply while letting himself sink comfortably into the seat and rest his elbows on the arm rest.

"Try me. I've seen you like this before— only not quite like this." He tilted his head, closed the file and leaned towards the desk to place it on top of a pile.

"Really?" Gideon raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes really. Jason, just call her." he smiled. Gideon actually thought about it— seriously considered the suggestion. It was true that they hadn't exactly established who the contacting party would be, he merely assumed that seeing that it had been her suggestion—and the fact that he didn't have her new telephone number, that she would call him.

"I cannot possibly do that." He replied as he felt the twinge of butterflies at the mere thought.

"In all the years that I have known you; you have never been one to just give up." Hotchner let his chuckle emerge.

"Well, I do not have her telephone number."

"So you're admitting that there is someone." Gideon nodded. "That has never stopped you before, now has it? You have always been very resourceful when the need arises. Why not ask Garcia to give you a hand?"

"I don't think so. That would be very unwise."

"Unwise?" he cocked a dark brow.

"When has she ever been able to keep a secret?"

"I suppose that you have a point. So this essentially means that you're going to carry on as you are until this mystery woman calls?" Gideon's shoulders shrugged and then slumped slightly with a loud sigh. "Seriously Jason, who is she?" Hotchner pushed his friend.

"So what's your take on our un-sub?"

"Nice try." Hotchner smiled and stood to grab another file. The silence between them appeared that of understood and as Hotchner turned back to the file, Gideon absently turned the gold bands he wore. The first band he wore in remembrance of his father who had passed away while he was in high school; and the other he wore in memory of his wife, who had also passed far too soon after a horrific accident— he often wondered if that was what drove the wedge between his son Stephen and himself. That theme felt common— something that left him feeling that the only thing that he could commit to was his job. More or less out of the fear of losing another before their time. In truth, he had felt somehow responsible; mainly because he couldn't be there for either of them in their time of need. He was away for a week on a school field trip; and while his wife fought for her life, he was in the field with the BAU. In a very sobering way, the rings symbolised reason. Reason that he felt he lacked due to an overabundance of passion— when he absently spun them round his finger, he realised that they kept him grounded, kept him sane. Realising that he wasn't going to have any luck with forcing himself to see that one clue, he decided to retire for the evening— he emerged from the small bathroom in a pair of boxer shorts and a white t-shirt and padded towards his lightly packed duffle bag, retrieving a book and got under the covers to read for a while.

Hotchner heard him mumble, heard the rustle of the sheets in the next bed and opened his eyes to check the time. Just like clock work, he thought and rolled onto his other side. Awaking with a jolt, his breath caught in his throat, and slightly surprised that his glasses were still happily in place; only his book a casualty, had fallen off his lap and lay closed beside him. Gideon opened his eyes, glanced over at Hotchner happy not have woken him and picked up his book, placing it on the night table; he removed his glasses and placed them on top of the book. He lay on his back in an attempt to rest his mind, only brought thoughts of Elle. What if she had called? He thought; then what would I have done? Coffee to catch up isn't anything major now a days, he chided himself before buckling down. Finally finding comfort in a bed which the mattress felt as though it were a layer of bricks, he closed his eyes once more.

It was under the umbrella of bad news that the team assembled the next morning at the precinct— the expressions on their faces were solemn. Their un-sub had struck again. Only this time, he had been everything they had thought him not to be. The wounds were deliberate, the wounds chillingly telling— most of which had been inflicted while the victim was still alive. The last, he nearly took her head off by the force.

"Lilly Richardson was only twenty-two." Prentiss flopped open the file and scattered the photographs onto the table.

"I'd say he has gained some confidence." Reid crossed his thin arms in front of himself and tilted his head in thought. "Or this isn't the work of our un-sub."

"It looks to be the same MO." J.J. said, her attention drawn to the stamp on the back of the victim's hand.

"What is it?" Hotchner took a step towards her to get a better look at the photograph.

"Here." She pointed to the ink.

"Out for an evening with friends perhaps?" he thought for a moment. "Perhaps we can get a description of her killer by tracking down her companions." He glanced over at Gideon, who seemed to be fixated on something.

"That's the mark from a very exclusive club." Gideon pushed himself off the desk he had been leaning against. All eyes turned towards him in shock that he would have known that. "They have a very particular list as to who gets in."

"J.J. and I will work out the details of the press conference. For the most part we have a working profile that will, at the very least, alert the public. Once we get the details from the autopsy, and more information from the crime scene, we can go forward with that." J.J. nodded and Hotchner turned back towards the rest of the team. "Prentiss, you and Morgan will glean whatever you can from the last crime scene. That way we have something of our own to compare the recent crime scene with." Gideon gently tugged Reid's sleeve and they headed out to the most recent crime scene, officers in tow.

A long, loud sigh escaped Hotchner's lips as he and J.J. worked out a media worthy profile— something that would cater to their need for ratings— yet not completely toss the public into a tailspin of fear. Prentiss had a crime scene photographer join her and Morgan to get the angles that they thought necessary in establishing a sold working profile, while Gideon and Reid sifted through the blood and gore of the recent crime scene.

"At least she hasn't been dead for a couple of days." They heard an officer remark in the background. The officer he spoke to finished taping off the grid while photographers snapped as many pictures as they could. Reid and Gideon watched for a moment in silence— taking everything in, getting a feel for the scene that they hoped would begin to unpeel the tight onion-like layers of their un-sub. As if to say something, Reid turned towards Gideon and watched as he stared intently at something that shimmered slightly where the body once lay. Moving towards it, Gideon crouched beside the item, got a latex glove from his pocket and proceeded to reach for it.

"I haven't catalogued that yet. Don't you dare compromise my crime scene! That would totally mess with the investigation." A voice filed with fire said from behind him. He slowly turned his head towards its source— a tall, lean, curly haired detective; her white suit perfect for the Miami heat. Tilting her head, her curls fell over her ear onto her shoulder in a graceful wave. Suddenly realising who they were, she changed the expression on her face. "I'm detective Antonia Torres." She added and removed her sunglasses, popping them into the breast pocket of her light blazer.

"I'm Special Agent Jason Gideon," he said simply as he rose from his place, "and this is Agent Spencer Reid." He gestured towards the younger man, who stood with his hands jammed in his pockets. Detective Torres motioned towards a photographer to take a few quick shots of the item and had someone collect it.

"Well then Agent Gideon, what do you suppose the significance is?" she watched him sceptically as he took a moment in thought.

"Perhaps it is a trophy that our un-sub either forgot to take with him, or one that he has left behind. It is conceivable that it is something belonging to our un-sub, that he is unaware of loosing." Gideon watched as the officers quickly continued to do their prescribed jobs without much interruption from the flash bulbs of the media, who contented themselves with taking as many photographs as they could manage— a reporter appeared to be not only reporting on the crime scene itself, but also the media attention that this death appeared to capture.

"You do realise that they are going to want an official press conference." She huffed under her breath and turned towards another officer. "Make sure that everything is done by the book. When we catch this son of a bitch, I want him going away for a **very **long time." She added and headed towards another group of officers, who appeared to be huddled together off to the side discussing the scene. I suppose things are done differently here, Gideon thought to himself and grabbed his cell phone from his shirt pocket to check his messages. Reid watched him as he took in the bustle. It wasn't unlike anywhere else they had travelled to; it just seemed to encompass a completely different dynamic. He watched Gideon listen to the message and saw how his expression seemed to fall; albeit slightly, yet just enough for the perceptive to catch.

"Gideon, when she's ready, she'll call." Reid said nonchalantly— not exactly knowing who the 'she' was, he was just as glad as everyone else to see Gideon slightly over the moon. It brought an interesting vibe, threw him slightly off kilter, breaking his normally over serious nature. They then headed back to the SUV in silence; however, Gideon had to fight the urge to laugh as he quickly realised how obvious he had been. Had everyone truly known that he had been hiding something from them? A secret hope, he was slightly amazed as he allowed his mind to wonder back to the change in his behaviour, as if able to pinpoint it, which would have probably been the indicator to those around him that something was going on behind the twinkle in his eye. He drove back to the police station to re-join the rest of the team in the conference room to hopefully complete a full, accurate, working profile and in turn complete the press release.

J.J., dressed in a clean cut suit, her blouse crisp stood in front of the media and relayed what she could regarding the man that they were looking for— a description that no doubt fit many of the men in Miami; however, it would be the behaviour that they warned the public to be wary of that would be the distinguishing factor. The press, as usual, ate it up. Flashing bulbs nearly blinded the media specialist as she maintained her steady gaze, large blue eyes fixated just beyond the crowd where Reid stood alongside Gideon and Hotchner. Just having Reid there kept her extra grounded and on task. He kept his spindly arms folded tightly across his chest, a posture that she had grown comfortable with.

—Quantico, Virginia—

The conclusion of yet another hectic work week had Elle arrive to a dark flat. In all honesty she couldn't complain about being kept so busy, as it often left her with very little time to think about what she had been avoiding. Removing her shoes, and hanging her coat in the closet, she picked up the phone from the cluttered coffee table and dialled the number for her favourite restaurant for take out before flipping on the television to catch the evening news.

"The behavioural analysis unit has been called to assist Miami police with a series of murders. Each murder involves a young lady in or around her late twenties to early thirties; thereby extension, we believe that we would be looking for a charismatic man possibly in his late thirties to early forties. He will be comfortable, confident, which one may perceive as cocky. We are releasing this composite sketch to the public as an aid for women. Please keep in mind that we are not trying to scare women into changing their regular routine— however, we are asking that women be more aware of your surroundings. If per chance, you do get the feeling of being watched, change your routine up a bit and please contact local authorities. No matter how insignificant you feel the information is, it might be more valuable than you think in apprehending the un-sub." J.J. paused and took a couple of questions before drawing a conclusion to the press conference. The teams lucky to have you J.J., Elle mused, turning off the television, and getting up to find a CD to fill the emptiness of her flat. She slipped the CD into the awaiting tray and turned it up loud enough so that it could be heard from her bedroom. She quickly removed her moss green suit, grabbed the nearest hanger and hung it in the closet. She then rummaged around for her favourite, extremely comfortable powder blue track suit and quickly pulled the pants up her lean legs— found a baseball styled t-shirt and slipped it over her head before sliding the matching hooded sweatshirt over her arms. Dinner alone on a Friday night was never her favourite thing; however, seeing that her evening plans of dinner and salsa dancing had fallen through, she opted for a quiet evening in.

She had always taken great pleasure in setting her table with fine china, elegant stem wear and cutlery. Only the quiet knock broke her train of thought with the arrival of her meal. Grabbing her wallet on her way to the door, she fished out the correct amount, plus a tip and opened the door.

"Hey Harvey." She said politely as the young delivery man smiled widely.

"Hi Elle, that will be thirty-five seventy." He held out the take-away bag and she quickly took it from him, placing it on the hall table she held out the money.

"Thanks." He said and proceeded to give her the change. "Have a great evening." He added and turned on his heel. Sure, she thought as she closed the door and locked it quickly before picking up the bag on her way back to the kitchen. A smile of satisfaction caressed her lips as she took in the ambience—the perfect meal and wine to accompany said meal. The only thing missing was someone to share it with. The last thought made her re-evaluate; completely re-question herself when it came to all the reasons why she hadn't followed through— she quickly realised that she had gone against her word. He must think me absolutely insane, she thought with a gentle laugh as she dressed her plate and poured the wine. Holding up her glass in a mock bon appetite, she took a sip before cutting into the chicken dish. Once she had finished her meal, she cleared the dishes, putting the leftovers in the refrigerator then finished tidying her flat. She had wanted to be finished all the odds and ends, and a couple of loads of laundry before nine, so she could settle down and watch her favourite film. She knew it was lame, but there was just something about the Christian Slater flick that gave her hope that happiness was indeed granted to those who waited. About ten minutes before the film started, she popped the microwave popcorn and took the massive bowl that she knew she would never finish, along with a large bottle of raspberry flavoured water on a tray to the living room. Turning off most of the lights, she settled herself on the sofa and tossed a light blanket over her legs, pulling it up over her chest. As the opening credits played, she smiled at the moment to truly relax. It had, after all, been so long since she had granted herself time to herself.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she took a moment to allow them to adjust to the soft bluish glow of the television. Aw, I missed most of the movie— I must have been far more tired than I thought, she mused and sat up letting the blanket fall around her waist. Oh well, I guess I needed the sleep, she untangled her legs and stood up, careful to catch any stray pieces of popcorn. Taking the tray back to the kitchen, she disposed of the uneaten snack and put the bottle of water back in the refrigerator. Turning around, her eyes rested on the telephone. Once again, she seriously considered picking it up and dialling his number. Yes, she still knew his number by heart— even though she had had it programmed into her cell phone, she always found it faster to dial it. Seeking the courage, she reached out for the receiver. In that instant, she felt her blood as it drained from her body, leaving her feeling cold and apprehensive. I don't have to do this now, she shook her head and cradled the receiver. If I don't, I doubt I ever will, she looked at the blue neon digits on the stoves clock as it slowly ticked the minutes. Get it together girl, she rolled her eyes and headed to the living room, picked up the cordless phone from the coffee table and quickly thumbed the numbers. She hadn't bothered to block her number, she was certain that he would know it was her— and if he was on a case, it wouldn't surprise her in the least if his voicemail answered instead. If that were the case, she could at least leave a message, which in turn left the ball squarely in his court. It rang enough for her to believe that his voicemail would click in.

"Gideon." His voice sounded just as it had when she was on the team, when they were up to their eyeballs in a case. She fell silent, he heard her shallow breath. Don't hang up Elle, he silently willed her to speak. Elle nearly let the phone fall from her hand, yet somehow, despite suddenly frozen hands, managed to hold onto the telephone as if it were a lifeline.

"Hi." Her voice was small and she could sense the smile before he spoke.

"Elle, I was beginning to think that our busy schedules had kept us from speaking. I would have called." He paused.

"You don't have my new telephone number." She broke in.

"That's right. Hotch suggested that I ask Garcia; however, I didn't think that to be the best course of action." He babbled almost nervously.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't really thinking." She replied and lowered herself to sit on the sofa, tucking one foot underneath her and grabbing a pillow— hugging it closely to her chest and almost resting her chin on it. They talked for a good hour and a half before it suddenly occurred to her that he had probably had a long day and would be in for another while working on a case.

"I didn't realise that it's gotten so late." she said, not truly wanting to end the conversation, yet knowing that it would happen sooner or later. It had been almost as though he had checked his watch. She heard the slow exhale next before he spoke— could envision the expression on his face, the curl of his lip, and closed her eyes for a moment.

"How about you give me your number?" she heard the rustle of paper and a slight sigh as he reached for a pen. Giving him her number, they finished the conversation with Gideon saying that once they were back, he would call.

"Good luck with your case."

"Thanks." He replied. He wanted to say something more, wanted to tell her that he couldn't wait to actually see her, and yet at the same time managed to maintain his usual, unreadable tone.

"Good night." She said hardly above a whisper and reluctantly pulled the phone from her ear and pressed the end button.

—Miami, Florida: Police Station—

Hotchner watched as his colleague snapped the cell phone shut. There was immediately something different about the seasoned profiler's demeanour— there had been a sudden spring in his step, an air of contentment that even the facts of this case would not be able to shake. They had retreated to their hotel room late that evening and were busy trying to link what they had and were in the process of working out a way to get that one step ahead of their un-sub when Gideon's cell phone had rung. The tone of his voice left very little to Hotchner's imagination. He hadn't heard the name, yet he knew that it was the 'mystery' woman. Holding out a file, Hotchner waited for Gideon to receive it before he spoke.

"I'm still unsure what the actual significance of the item you found at the latest crime scene is. Trophy or unintended clue?" his sigh of frustration rang in their ears and his cell chirped from his suit jacket. He stood and crossed the room in two short strides. "Hotchner." His tone may have been authoritative, yet it was laced with the need to sleep.

"Honey, how is the case?" Haley's voice was small and he couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "I've been watching the news." She added with a yawn.

"We're progressing slowly." He replied honestly. "I miss you and Jack you know?" he made sure to add, not wanting her to feel that they were on the back burner. "I tried to call earlier. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. We were visiting my sister." She said lightly and he heard the rustle of sheets and he pictured her lying in bed, leaning against a soft mountain of pillows.

"Don't stay up too late." he said quietly. "And honey?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too." She replied and he waited for the click. Putting his cell phone on the desk, Gideon looked up and saw the darkness in Hotchner's features.

"I think we ought to grab some rest." Gideon's suggestion was met by a quick nod as Hotchner grabbed his cotton pyjama bottoms and headed to the bathroom to have a shower and prepare for bed. Gideon remained in the main room; put the television on quietly CNN was re-playing the press conference from earlier in the evening. He was glad that J.J. knew her stuff so well and that she knew exactly how little or much her facial expression complimented the information. We didn't show our hand, he thought and removed his glasses, placing them on the book on the night stand. He then padded across the room towards the dresser and collected something to sleep in. When Hotchner emerged from the bathroom, Gideon showered and shaved, and brushed his teeth. Turning off the light behind him, he walked carefully through the dark room and literally fell into bed.

The next morning brought about another victim. Their un-sub was relentless, restless, and had possibly forgotten what it is to be humane as his murders not only escalated in number, but confidence as well. Gideon sent Reid and Prentiss to the new crime scene, staying behind to work through the connectors with Hotchner and Morgan. J.J. continued to weave the necessary web for the media, who had obviously caught wind of their un-sub's newest victim and was already on scene when Reid and Prentiss arrived. Reid took in the bustle around them and then began to focus— looking for a very specific item. The victim was still in position, photo bulbs flashed and the coroner— a lean woman dressed in a light linen green pantsuit, stood making notes before carefully crouching beside the victim. She carefully rolled the body and the shimmer of gold caught Reid's attention.

"It isn't a trophy." He uttered under his breath and got his cell phone out.

"Gideon."

"The gold bracelets aren't trophies. Either he's leaving them behind on purpose, or just ripping them off the victims. Could you have it looked into?"

"I'm guessing you mean to see who the maker is? That way we can determine whether or not there was a charm on the bracelet?"

"Garcia might actually be able to help with that as well. Have Morgan send her a scan off a photograph and see what she can find out for us." He quickly tapped the end button and shoved the phone back in its place. "We might just be able to catch this guy after all." He added; Prentiss seemingly understood his comment.

When they arrived at the station, Gideon already had the news and they were in search of procuring a bracelet. Detective Torres had already gotten the wheels in motion for luring their un-sub. A pretty, petite officer had volunteered to be seen visiting the home of who they believed to be the next victim. Garcia had worked some major magic in locating the shop that sold the very exclusive bracelets. The officer would meet up with Jenna and they would be attending a party at one of Miami's most popular clubs. Reid and Prentiss had used the crime scene locations as references to 'walk' the path of their un-sub. Morgan was finally able to settle down once they had a plan in the works and had agreed to meet with the ladies at the club, as the rest of the team, save for J.J. and Prentiss would stick out at such an establishment.

"Does anyone have any final questions?" Gideon inquired from his place at the front of the room. A series of questions where asked and quickly answered and with that they headed to their posts, hoping that they would be able to prevent another death.

—Quantico, Virginia—

Having had an eventful evening out with friends, Elle hung her coat and headed straight to her bedroom to change for bed. As she passed the television on her dresser, she flipped it on and automatically turned the station to CNN so that she could catch up on the events of the day. She went into the bathroom and grabbed a quick shower, and emerged in her nightgown ready to crawl into bed. Turning out the lights, only leaving the small lamp on her nightstand on, she climbed into bed and covered herself with the soft cotton sheets and warm comforter. Picking up the remote, finger poised to turn off the television, she gasped at the pictures that were being shown.

"Officers will not confirm or deny that an FBI agent has been shot. Ambulances arrived at the popular night club late in the evening when it had been reported that shots had been fired. We do not have much information as the FBI's BAU remains tight lipped; however, we will keep you informed once we have more information." A reporter stood amongst obvious chaos and her voice could be heard over the once 'live' film that they had probably run for the umpteenth time. Her hand flew to her mouth and she sprang from bed to the office she used the second bedroom for guests where her answering machine resided on her well utilised desk. Please let it not be Gideon, she couldn't stop the blood from running cold through her veins as she pressed the button.

"Hey Elle, it's me, Kim. I just wanted to check in. We missed you this afternoon at Cody's. I hope you're doing okay— well give me a call when you get this. Talk to you soon." The end of her message was signalled by the loud beep and then the room was basked in silence, save for the sounds from the television in the other room. Her heart felt as though it ceased to beat— yet she knew very well that there was nothing she could do.

"Investigators say that they had been working the case for several months before calling in the profilers. According to lead Detective Torres, the link was a unique bracelet that each of the victims had. Police attempted to confront their suspect; however, missed apprehending him at his home earlier today. Opting for a second plan, they ascended on the popular night spot." A different reporter from a different news broadcast seemed to enjoy sensationalising the outcome of the murder investigation. "Could a serial killer be your best friend, your neighbour, or family member? Stay tuned and our resident expert will reveal the signs." Elle rolled her eyes and turned off the television and reached for the telephone beside her bed. Quickly dialling his number she waited and tried to maintain her usual calm.

"Gideon."

"So you got him?"

"Elle, are you all right?" he could tell that she was upset and figured that she had seen the news.

"I'm fine, just glad to hear your voice." Relief in her small voice, he could hear the gentle rustle of fabric as she lay back against the pillows.

"Morgan, J.J. and Prentiss went to the club to cover the undercover." He paused and she could hear someone asking him something. "No, it's over there." He answered them. "Sorry, Prentiss was shot. She'll be fine though."

"Thank goodness Morgan and J.J. are all right." She let her head sink into the soft pillow. "So, I guess you'll be on your way home?"

"We have to wrap things up here. Hotch told me that wheels are up in an hour." He answered and she could hear the commotion that surrounded him.

"Glad to hear that you're okay and that Prentiss will be fine. Just a scratch I suppose?" she breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"That's what she said. They're just finished with the stitches and she'll be joining us at the airport for the flight home. Elle, I know that it's really late and uh." He stopped himself from saying any more.

"Need a friend?" she blurted and could hear the relief in his silence. "Whatever you need I'm here." She offered without thought. He didn't answer her right away— it didn't seem to faze her though, she knew exactly what his silence meant. It was odd how she knew exactly what he was thinking— yet he could always attribute it to the hours upon hours of working together.

Knowing his silence meant that he needed someone to talk to; if not talk just sit with in silence. They had done that countless times during the many cases that they had worked on— he would often knock on her hotel room door late in the evening, a case file in his hand as a pretence and they would sit up and talk, or not; it never mattered, they were just able to enjoy the unspoken comfort that being in the presence of the other offered; and more times that she could count it was vice versa. Not wanting to appear as though she were ready to seduce him, she stood in her closet for a long moment trying to think of something comfortable to put on and pulled out her favourite black jeans, a form fitting white tank top and a crisp Oxford shirt— its origins unknown as she couldn't be sure where or whom she had acquired it from. She dressed and made sure to brush her hair, easily gathering it up into a ponytail. After which, she went into the living room and curled up on the couch for a nap.

The sharp ring of the telephone roused her form a pleasant dream and she made sure to clear her throat so it didn't sound as though she were asleep.

"Ms. Greenaway, a Special Agent Jason Gideon is here to see you." She recognised the voice of the burly concierge.

"Thank you." She sat up and ran her hands over her face, ran her fingers through her ponytail and went to the kitchen to boil water for tea. A gentle rap on the door and she knew he was there.

—To Be Continued…—

* * *

A/N: The previous chapter screamed out for a sequel. I'm currently in the process of writing what I hope to be the third and final instalment of this short story. I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read the first chapter (I had only intended it to be one chapter; however, when the bug bites, what can you do?). In any case, it is what it is and I hope that you enjoy it. 


	3. Getting Past Fragile Hearts

— Getting Past Fragile Hearts and Moving Towards New Beginnings—  
—(It's Not Too Late)—

Hardly a beat passed after he gently rapped his knuckles against her door and stood in wait. Another second or so passed and an odd sensation worked its way, resonated throughout his entire body— like electricity, sending a chilly shiver down his spine as whatever courage that had assisted him to this point nearly disappeared all together. As he nervously awaited her answer, he found his mind frantically working through the fifth, or was that tenth reason why he should not be where he stood. In his carefully moulded way of being, when a case concluded and they had gone through the process of the debriefing, he always craved solitude. Other than his cabin to seek refuge, his home was the next best thing. That meant arriving home to an empty house, which inevitably reinforced the emptiness the job had inflicted upon him. He would often close the door with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart. He often found solace in the fact that he could separate himself from the monstrosities of the outside world, if only for a short while.

Sights of the tortured— twisted, bent, and torn bodies of the countless victims left behind by the plethora of un-subs. Or the cries of innocent children who lack the mechanisms to cope with the horrors they experience. At times, he found himself wondering if those who had succumbed to their injuries were better off than those who had survived. He would lock the door behind and place his over night bag on the floor beside it, remove his jacket and either hang it in the closet or drape it over the hand carved banister. He would bend down and untie the laces of his running shoes and in one swift movement, drop them on the mat beside the over night bag before ducking into his study to unwind. More often than not, he would avoid sitting behind his desk all together— as he much preferred to settle himself in one of the comfortable, lovingly warn leather chairs that had been artfully arranged in a conversation area in front of the fireplace; all of which was anchored by an area rug that perfectly encompassed the deep, contemplative hues of the very masculine space.

At that point, time would become an immeasurable concept and he took whatever was sufficient in processing the ins and outs of whatever case they had completed. He would then groggily make his way upstairs for a hot shower— the only method he knew to remove the mind boggling sights, erase the smells that all somehow felt etched in his nostrils, and the caked on emotion he always felt left with. He often wondered if they had clung to him in a desperate attempt to always be remembered. It had taken a while to accept the reality that they were another by-product of the job. From there, sometimes still feeling wound up tighter than a top, he would fall into bed, attempt to settle himself in hopes of a dreamless slumber— one in which he did not have to re-experience the hours, days, or week's events.

All of these thoughts had quickly been washed away at the sound of Elle's voice, which also happened to change everything on this particular evening. The feeling of nostalgia that washed over him like a warm blanket comforted him and in a moment of self realisation, he soon realised that he no longer wished to be alone. Waiting outside her door felt like an eternity, yet gave him a moment to brush that thought aside— to be replaced with one of the many memories of times past that, as if on cue, fluttered fro their clever hiding places in the back of his mind. He enjoyed how his mind wove through the countless times he stood outside her hotel room door— with case file, or in most cases, files in hand; just so he could hear her voice her perspective uninterrupted by the other members of his team. It did; however, feel incredibly weird, him standing in front of her door empty handed. Just as his mind recalled a very difficult case, his thoughts were interrupted by the loud click of the lock before the door swung open.

He hadn't realised that his eyes had fallen to his shoes until he regained focus. As he swept his eyes up, he couldn't stop himself from drinking in the way her black jeans hugged her long, lean legs, or the fact that her crisp white shirt, quite the contrast from her jeans and espresso/chocolate coloured tresses, hung open overtop and he knew the white tank top clung and caressed her hidden curves. His eyes continued to roam up her body, rested on her throat and finally on her lovely face, which possibly for the first time was nearly unreadable. She wasn't quiet smiling, nor was she frowning, yet he found himself completely captivated by the sensual curl of her naturally deep plum lips. With a quick turn of her head, she gestured, granting him access to her flat. As he took the first step, clearing the threshold, he shrugged out of his jacket and removed his shoes. Elle hurried back to the kitchen to unplug the kettle that whistled loudly to signal that the water was boiled.

"Elle, how did you know?" he managed as he met her in the kitchen. She didn't answer, only completed what she had started prior to his arrival— placing the mugs on the tray and popping the tea bags into the pot, covering it with a warmer and lastly adding the spoons and milk. The fact that he had been staring at her would have normally made her feel completely and utterly nervous— actually more to the point, down right self-conscious, as there was always something about those eyes. Tonight; however, there was a completely different vibe shared between them and she was unable ignore the surge of confidence that she felt with him for the first time. Adding the finishing touches, she motioned that they would take their tea in the living room— understanding her body language, he followed her into the comfortably large room. She set the tray on the low coffee table. While the tea steeped, she found a CD, to fill the moments of silence, she knew would follow, carefully placed it in the tray and gently tapped the play button before joining him on the soft sofa. She turned towards him and caught the expression on his face— one that cried out for the comfort that only a warm, gentle touch could offer— she reached across the short distance between them and rested a hand on his broad shoulder.

"Jason, it's okay, you know?" she almost whispered, feeling the muscles under the thin, soft cotton fabric of his shirt ripple under her gentle touch and just as quickly settle once more. In response to her comforting caress, he instinctively brought his hand up and covered her small hand, caressing her delicate fingers ever so gently with his own. She smiled warmly before turning her attention to pouring the tea.

Each took comfort in the fact that what little had been said between them was all they needed. Their mutual silence was one of comfort and understanding that neither felt the need to break too soon. Instead, they sat back and sipped tea. Gideon finally leaned forward, rested his elbow on his thigh for a moment before placing his mug on the tray. Once settled back in his place, he contented himself to just stare at her— possibly in disbelief more than anything else. From the expression he wore, she could instantly tell that he was in his usual mode of deep thought, and that he would eventually come out with something slightly odd, or verbalise exactly what he was thinking when he was ready. Until that moment, she would be patient with him; give him all the time he needed to process his thoughts. His behaviour may be concluded as odd, at best, by any other; however, to Elle, it was anything but. She had always been respectful and understood his need for silence— it had, after all, been one of the many things shared between them that she would miss. It was interesting that despite the fact they hadn't worked together for nearly six months, they were still so incredibly in tune with one another.

"I need you to know that this was never my intention when you called." He blurted almost out of the blue. She looked down for a long moment, he watched as her pony tail fell over her shoulder, hiding the faint scar.

"Oh?" she then returned her dark eyes to his just in time to catch the wistful expression he wore— the mischievous glint gave something away.

"I honestly don't know exactly what I had been thinking." He chuckled at how silly he sounded knowing that things had never been what one might define as 'normal' between them— they both knew and recognised that things have always been complicated. "I'm getting a bit a head of myself." He paused and she tilted her head again. "When we met that night, I was so excited to have re-established contact with you that I had forgotten so many things."

"My no longer working at the BAU makes for a different level of conversation. Jason, I get that you cannot share the facts of the cases that you're working on with me. This gives us the chance to find out where things between us can go." She smiled. "Seeing that we are in the confessing mode I will be as honest with you here as I was on paper. Because of so many things, I thought that letter would be the last time I would ever have contact with you. It spoke the truth— I was terrified to think that you had believed Hotchner without speaking to me."

"Oh Elle, you had been through quite the traumatic time and the Lee case to top it off. Let's just say that it didn't help matters. I should have known better. It was because of me that you were put back in the field too soon. Things weren't the same without you and I was so excited to have you back, that I forgot that you were not ready to do what I asked of you. That was a grave error on my part."

"I wanted to prove to you that I was."

"You are far tougher than you'll ever know, my dear." He placed a strong hand on her shoulder and ran it down her arm.

"If I had been so tough, I should have awaited your arrival and then said a proper goodbye, instead of hiding behind words on a page." She looked down at his hand that resided on top of hers.

"Elle my sweetheart, I understand." He scooted towards her and gently rested his other hand on her thigh. "I need you to know how excited I was that we met once again." The corners of his lips tugged and he smiled warmly— the kind of smile that also comes from the eyes, revealing a bit of one's soul.

"You were?" her tone was almost as astonished as the expression that had managed to caress her face.

"Oh my dear, how could I not be? And then your calling me this evening reminded me of the things that we often forget." He moved his hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders and she kept her soft posture, leaning into him, fitting nicely to his side as if she had always belonged there.

"That night, I don't think that the simple act of thought had been part of the equation. I found and let myself be ruled by passion and the emotions that go with it. I suppose I did the same this evening." She licked her lips. "When I had heard that an agent had been shot, I automatically thought it must have been you. You're never one to fire first; you're always relying on the power of your profile. In any case, it forced me to follow through with a bit more gusto than I thought necessary."

"Elle I know." He whispered softly in her ear and allowed his lips to ever so gently caress the sensitive warm skin— and felt the natural tilt of her head in response.

It had been very obvious that neither harboured the intent of a night of seduction, nor a night of giving into the unwritten, unspoken, underling passion that surged below the surface. However, what this night did offer them was the chance to re-establish the pre-existing relationship that neither could quite define. They could easily agree that it had begun as a working relationship, one based on mutual trust, respect and a bit of admiration, which had morphed into a more personal relationship that in turn blossomed into something very new for both of them. It offered them the chance to turn the clock back, in a manner of speaking, to a time prior to the Fisher King and the hell he had managed to unleash upon the team— the thought reminded him of the hours he stayed by her bedside waiting for her to wake. The hours he talked to the empty room, in hopes that she might have heard some of what he said. Hoping that a gentle touch as he brushed her hair away from her deathly pale face, and finally took her almost fragile hand in his solidified whatever unspoken bond they had shared.

Noticing that the music had stopped, Elle stood and went over to the shelf where she kept her CDs and quickly found another, removed the first and replaced it with the new one, and pressed the play button. Gideon had moved to settle himself on the large, comfortable, overstuffed armchair and watched as she retuned and instead of sitting on the sofa, she sat on the floor in front of it and leaned against it with her knees drawn up to her chest. He wondered if she had noticed how it suddenly felt, save for a few minor details, as though they had been transported back in time— as if transformed back to a hotel room in a moment of shared silence; a break from going over the facts with their meticulous fine toothed combs. It was a wonderful feeling of a time when he would sit in an armchair and Elle would sit cross-legged on either the bed or the floor, leaning against the bed. His lip curled as he thought of the many times he would catch a glimpse and enjoy the way her soft eyebrows would knit together or furrow in frustration— almost in an attempt to match whatever thoughts swirled around her mind. For him, this night was enough to completely remind him of what he had waited so long for. It solidified the feelings long ignored, long controlled. It also reminded him of something so simple and yet at the same time incredibly difficult— the need to be brave and just into the unknown. If he could not take that risk, he could not possibly obtain a chance at the happiness he secretly sought, which he believed to have found in her? All that remained was to take that leap and hope that she might catch him— if he were that lucky, he would have a second chance at truly living.

Elle attempted to suppress a yawn and quickly got up to collect the tray.

"May I give you a hand with that?" he inquired watching her. She shook her head and smiled before making her way to the kitchen. The light neon blue numbers on the stove clock read four-thirty in the morning. Thank goodness that tomorrow is Saturday, she thought and allowed the yawn to escape and turned to open the refrigerator, she placed the milk in its place on the shelf. Then returned to the mugs and rinsed them in the sink under hot water before placing them in the dishwasher. She hadn't heard him sneak up behind her, but she suddenly became aware that he was watching her again.

"You know Jason, it's really late and not to sound insensitive or anything. You look beat. I know most of it is emotional— I think I know you fairly well; however, I'd have to say that the remainder is exhaustion, which means you shouldn't drive home." She leaned against the counter. What could he possibly say in his defence? When he knew very well that his eyes would betray his words. He was indeed beyond tired, but that was exactly what he had meant when he said that he didn't mean for this. He had thought that he would be more than capable of making the short journey home. He knew it was best not to argue with her, and the loud sigh that erupted, caused his lips to vibrate and for her, that was answer enough. "Look, I have a futon in the office." She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, directing him towards the short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom, before he had the chance to protest beyond his non-verbal method. How could he possibly protest when he knew darn well that she was right? What could he possibly say? That he had planned the inevitable in hopes of more than a good night kiss when he sure as heck hadn't. "I know." She said softly, as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking. "Mini-tour time— the bathroom is just down the hall. I'm pretty sure that there's a new toothbrush in the drawer as well, if you like." She was just as warm as she had been so many moons ago when they would be up so late working a case that one would fall asleep on the bed and the other in a chair or on a sofa, if the room had one.

Elle moved swiftly through the room, turning on the lamp beside the futon and then went to the closet. She pulled the matching flat sheet and a warm down-filled comforter— and found some old baggy track pants and a t-shirt for him.

"I think these belonged to my brother." She said and handed him the clothes.

"Thank you my dear." He went to change while she pulled the metal frame which instantly created a bed and quickly tossed the sheet over, tucked it underneath the mattress and then spread the comforter overtop. He returned to the room looking a bit fresher than he had in the kitchen. She smiled brightly and he looked down then around the room suddenly feeling very out of place.

"Elle, I." He fumbled for the words that wouldn't have the chance to be said, in fact, didn't have to be said.

"No problem." She smiled sweetly and chastely kissed his cheek. "Good night." She added and left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving him to his thoughts. On her way to her bedroom, Elle found herself quickly checking to see if the small nightlight in the bathroom was working as she knew how uncomfortable it could be when trying to navigate through unfamiliar places. She then slipped into her bedroom to change and get ready for bed. It seemed as though she would never get herself settled, she turned from her side to her back, and then back onto her side once more. Stayed up past being tired, she sighed loudly and knowing that the only way she would find sleep was reading— the book; however, was in the living room so she tossed the covers aside and grabbed her housecoat from the foot of the bed. Slipping her arms into the silky sleeves, she tied the belt around her slender waist before she quietly crept towards the door and slowly opened it. Not wanting to disturb Gideon, she continued to slowly carefully make her way down the hallway. Fumbling in the pitch room as her eye had yet to adjust, her ankle cracked loudly in the silence and she sighed with hope that it wasn't as loud as it sounded in her ears. Finally finding the book on the side table beside the lamp, she turned around to make the journey back to her bedroom and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Gideon!" she exclaimed out of reflex.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. I was just going to grab a glass of water." He said sheepishly. Elle was unable to prevent the feeling of exposure that reminded her that her robe had probably fallen open and a hand immediately flew up to the neck and she clutched the fabric together and held the book in her arm across her chest. "What's that you have there?" he inquired and she looked down at the book, she still held tightly.

"One of my friends wrote it." She babbled. "It's a science fiction, or fantasy, or something of the like."

"Oh?" he cocked a brow in interest. "So you were having trouble sleeping as well?" she could only nod. "Hmm, I'll get some water and then we'll sit down and read some. If that's okay with you?" she thought for a moment and nodded slowly. Gideon first went to the office to retrieve his glasses and then to the kitchen— she heard the water running while she fetched the blanket from the back of the armchair. She turned on the lamp, its glow warmed the room and she unfolded the blanket before settling herself on the sofa. Gideon returned and she lifted the blanket for him to sit underneath with her. He sat, and they arranged themselves before he gently took the book from her and opened it to the marker, which happened to be the start of the fourth chapter.

"The young lass and her closest friends would have to endure a quest like no other if they were to save the kingdom from the clutches of the evil blackness that had been slowly suffocating it. If it were to continue far more of her people would die. It was their destiny, it had been written long before the kingdoms existence." Gideon began and then wrapped an arm around her, she took a deep breath and snuggled into him and rested her head on his chest as he gently ran and tangled his fingers in her tousled, silky, wavy locks— she closed her eyes to the rhythm of his fingers in her hair and sighed contently, as she had always loved the sound of his voice and could feel it rumble within him. She nearly laughed out loud when he selected a tone of voice for each character, which only added to the drama of the story.

Elle couldn't be sure how much or how little of the story she heard as she fought to hear his voice, sleep slowly settled her, slowly scooped her up in warmth and Elle eventually gave in— gave into exhaustion, but for the fist time in a long while, not to the nightmares that still plagued her. It was a soft, comfortable sleep that was filled with, for the first time, pleasant, happy, and safe dreams that made waking far more difficult than it normally was. Slowly, as if being beckoned by the morning, she answered the call. An odd sensation wrapped itself around her— she soon recalled that she was comfortably pressed against a warm, soft, gentle body. Her head rose and fell with each and every one of his breaths. She also felt the constant beat of his heart under her sensitive ear. Not wanting to break the dream, she kept her eyes closed for as long as she could, yet hunger pulled her further from the comfort, forcing her to open her eyes. He felt the movement and a curl played with the corners of his lips as his mind thought it had only been a dream; that he would open his eyes and he would be home, asleep in an empty bed. However, the soft, sensation of eyelashes tickling him through the thin cotton t-shirt caused the curl of his lips to morph into a happy grin as until this moment waking with Elle his arms had merely been a fantasy— the reality couldn't have possibly been any more perfect. Well aside from a few minor details, oh and the crick in his neck.

Gideon let his fingers return to her wonderfully dishevelled hair and wrapped them within the waves. She sighed and dreaded lifting her head from his chest as if in that moment, they would have to return to reality. Although in many ways, reality really wasn't that bad. She murmured something and slowly lifted her head, turned so that she could see him and was greeted by a wide smile.

"Good morning." He said and looked up at her. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, actually I did." She replied and untangled herself from the blanket to move to the kitchen. "Coffee?" she called.

"Yes please." He replied while he folded the blanket and rearranged the pillows on the sofa. He entered the kitchen to find Elle filling the carafe with water and pouring it into the reservoir before pressing the button. "What would you like for breakfast?" he inquired and closed the distance between them. She thought for a moment. "An omelette with toast sound okay?" she nodded.

"Just give me a moment to get dressed and I'll give you a hand."

"I'm sure I can make my way around your kitchen."

"I didn't."

"I know." He laughed and she quickly dashed to her bedroom to dress. Finding a pair of faded blue jeans and a burgundy top, she quickly dressed and went into the adjoining bath to fix her hair, wash her face and brush her teeth. When she returned, she couldn't believe what Gideon had been up to.

"What is all this?" her eyes wide in shock.

"I saw that you have the ingredients for something a lot better than a simple omelette." His smile grew and she stood beside him.

"So what can I do?" she went to the sink and washed her hands.

"Nothing my dear, I have everything under control." He replied simply as he finished mixing a thin pancake batter.

"Crapes?" she cocked a brow. He nodded. "You do realise that you are going to spoil me."

"It's the least I can do. I feel as though I put you on the spot last night. And when I had said that this hadn't been my intent, what I meant was that I would have rather asked you out officially." He suddenly had to look away from her. The light batter mixture had suddenly become rather interesting. Elle didn't know exactly what to say.

"Things between us aren't quite like anyone else to begin with. Jason, you know that I understand. I also will make note that I realise that you are rather old fashioned at times in how you go about things. It's something that I've always found myself drawn to." He suddenly felt unsure as to what to say. She had just said the things he could only have imagined hearing her say. They stared at each other for a long moment before he had to turn back to the thin batter in the pan. She turned towards the refrigerator and got out the berries to wash, cut, and warm through to make a sweet contrast. She also found the whipping cream and took that out as well. Gideon smiled widely and watched as she carefully washed the strawberries, cut the stems off and added them to the saucepan, along with the raspberries to slowly heat. She found the vanilla and the beaters to whip the cream for the topping. Setting it aside, she opened a cupboard and pulled at the bag of icing sugar. "Icing sugar to finish?" he nodded and she set the bag aside with a bright smile as she turned towards the cupboard and pulled the plates to dress the table.

"I think you have the sauce under control. I'm just going to get dressed." He turned to go and she caught his hand in hers and pulled him towards her.

"Thank you." She whispered and kissed his cheek. That was his cue and he gently cupped her face and captured her lips with his.

"You do realise that I should be thanking you." He whispered as he seemed to have lost his voice. She smiled and he headed down the hallway. Elle finished up dressing the table for breakfast while he changed and when he returned, they finished preparing the meal. Elle was quick in pouring the coffee and setting the mugs on the table along side the orange juice and heard the familiar sound of the morning paper. She quickly collected the thick flyer filled paper and set it on the table in the entry. There was something wonderful about this morning; that even though it had been through unpleasant circumstances that brought them together, it felt perfect. Gideon finished with their plates and set them on the table.

"This looks absolutely delish." She smiled and draped the linen serviette across her lap and Gideon did the same. They ate and talked about everything and nothing and had the chance to make arrangements for an actual 'date' the following week, providing of course, that he wasn't stuck working on a case. Just finishing up the process of clearing the dishes, Elle was rinsing and placing them in the dishwasher while Gideon cleaned the stove and the countertops when his cell phone broke the comfortable silence shared between them.

"There's reality calling." She said leaving him to answer the phone.

"Gideon." She heard his work tone in use. There was a long pause on his side of the conversation and not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, which was something she never liked to do, Elle thought it best to give him the needed space and went to make her bed and tidy up a few other things that needed to be taken care of before she went out to get the following weeks shopping done. The thought that they had only completed a case crossed her mind, as it was highly unusual that they would be called in the next day, unless of course, it was absolutely urgent. When she returned, he was sitting in the living room reading the morning paper.

"I thought."

"That I would be on my way?" she nodded and he closed the paper and set it on the coffee table. "First of all, I wouldn't just disappear without an explanation; and second of all, what makes you think that was a case?"

"You forget that I was once a member of the BAU. That I have actually, on more than one occasion, disappeared in the middle of something or was unable to call and cancel before we were on the plane." She plunked herself onto the sofa. "Jason, I understand." He merely stared at her with a look of sheer amusement. "What is it?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Hotch can take care of it. If for any reason I'm needed I'll catch a flight out on Monday." He sat back and watched her expression change.

"No really? You would never miss a plane."

"Ordinarily, you would be right. However, I think this is a plane I can afford to miss." He said and rose from the chair to sit on the coffee table in front of her. "I realise that things will probably be slightly different between us. I suppose I'm just a bit nervous that you may interpret my inability to talk about the cases we're working on as keeping secrets."

"You have never kept anything from me when we worked together and I understand why you would have to now. I trust you." She said simply and took his hands in hers. "Jason, if you need to get on that plane I understand completely." He knew that she meant it and wondered how many times Haley had said those very words to Hotch and hadn't meant them.

"I'm not going anywhere." He squeezed her hands and took his chance to jump further into the unknown. Reaching out, he gently caressed her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips before leaning in towards her. Taking the hint, she leaned towards him and pressed her lips against his enjoying how in synch they were. He was warm and tender and she retuned his kisses in kind with a little extra. "What." He paused and kissed her cheek. "Are you." He kissed her forehead. "Doing tonight?" he stole another kiss. When he pulled away he watched as she closed her eyes for a moment a smile playing with her lips, he could tell she enjoyed taking the time she needed to think of her reply.

"Presently, I do not have plans for this evening. However, I suspect that could very well change?" her eyebrow cocked and then she tilted her head. He took the opportunity to steal yet another kiss.

"That's good to hear." He paused. "Thought perhaps we could go out for dinner and maybe a movie, or dancing?" her face lit up.

"Like on a date?" she added the proper intonation to her voice, ending it with a melodic upward sweep. His grin widened and his eyes sparkled with a wonderful mixture of mischievousness and coy mystery. He nodded and she sighed in relief.

"So I'm going to go home and make the arrangements. Have a shower and get a few things done before the day is done."

"You're right, the day seems to have nearly slipped by, hasn't it?" she stood and he followed.

"Shall I make the reservation for eight o'clock then?" she nodded as she retrieved his jacket from the closet. "Very good." He gently kissed her forehead. "I'll see you later then." He added and made his way to the elevator. Elle closed and locked the door. That didn't just happen— did it? She felt like a teenager, happy, giddy and excited to be going on a date. A date with Gideon? Oh bloody hell, she thought as it sunk in. Things were fine when they were just kind of 'hanging' out, there was no pressure. Sure, there had been a few kisses here and there, which were ahh; this was different. What is it? She questioned herself as she gathered her coat and purse, then grabbed her keys from the dish on the hall table before heading out the door to the store.

"Yes, I asked her out on a real date." Gideon said as he pulled his black SUV into his driveway.

"What did she say?" he could hear the smile in Hotchner's voice.

"She said yes." He replied simply. "Do you guys need me?" he inquired as he threw the SUV in park and grabbed his over night bag.

"No, no. We're fine here. There were a few disappointed officers. They somehow thought that they would have the opportunity to meet you." He chuckled and Gideon sighed.

"Sorry to disappoint them." He somewhat floated up the walk way to his front door. It felt different. Light and airy as if coming home wasn't a disappointment, or solitary occurrence. "I almost forgot. How's Emily?"

"She'll be fine. I have her working with Garcia back at Quantico, I didn't want her succumbing to further injury because she does what you do and ignores her body's limitations."

"I've never done such a thing." Gideon said in his defence.

"Yeah sure. Ask anyone on the team. When do we get to meet said mystery woman?"

"Hopefully never." Gideon said with a soft laugh and closed the door behind, locking it quickly he put his overnight bag on the floor and removed his jacket and shoes then took it down to the basement to wash the dirty clothes tossed within. "She's rather special. You guys would only scare her off." He added and went back upstairs to finish a couple of quick chores.

"Scare her off? Jason, I'm wounded."

"No you're not." They both laughed. "Keep me in the loop, if need be I'll take the first plane out."

"We're doing fine." Hotchner did his best to reassure the Supervisory Special Agent.

"That's good to know."

"You'll keep me in the loop on how your date went."

"Oh yeah sure. A full report." He rolled his eyes. "Talk to you later."

"Yes we will." Hotchner said, having the last word. Gideon knew that he had to leave his phone on in case they needed him. He hoped they wouldn't as he headed to his office to find the number for the restaurant to make the reservation. If all went well, a little night of romance was just what the doctor ordered. Lucky for him, he knew the owner and the manager— so when he spoke with Markus, his regular table would no doubt be available.

"Thank you very much." Gideon smiled as he cradled the phone.

He headed upstairs for a hot shower— this time it wasn't like before. It lacked the feeling of removing the sludge of a case; it actually felt like a gentle rain pelting over his surprisingly loose body. He enjoyed how his muscles were comfortable, not tense to the point where they rippled in protest to the soap as he lathered. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist and stood at the sink. His reflection, despite the fact that he had been up so long he had nearly forgotten, appeared rested. My, my she does have quite the affect on me; he smiled and picked up a bottle of gel. Squeezing out a small amount, he ran his fingers through his still damp hair and made sure it looked presentable. Gideon spent the rest of the day trying to keep busy with chores, in an attempt to keep the nervous butterflies at bay.

Elle, on the other hand, once she arrived home with the groceries and had them carefully put away, couldn't sit still. Waiting had always been something that she had never been good at. She finally decided that she could have a leisurely shower and take her time in finalising the perfect attire for their 'first date'. On her way to the adjoining bath, she turned on the small television that sat on the high boy and as usual, out of habit turned it to CNN and headed to the bath. Placing the towel on the rack beside the shower, she stepped in and turned on the water, let it wash over her body and slowly washed her hair and then her body. Once she had finished, she shut off the water and grabbed the over-sized terry cloth towel, then rubbed as much of the water from her thick hair as she could manage before wrapping herself in the towel. Finished drying her body, she gently dabbed her favourite perfume behind her knees and finished drying her hair. She had taken her black satin lace bra and matching panties in with her and slipped the fabric up her legs and quickly hooked the bra and made sure everything look as it ought to. She returned to her bedroom and set herself in front of the antique mirror, her arms crossed across her chest, she rested her chin between slender fingers. Uncrossing her arms, she attempted to at least see what she would do with her hair and swept it up, admiring how it accentuated her slender neck and drew the attention to her face. Up it is. She smiled and walked to the closet to pick out a dress that would definitely knock his socks off. The ring of the telephone brought her dressed, at least out of her bedroom to the living room.

"Hello?" she said waiting.

"Ms. Greenaway, Jason Gideon is here to see you."

"Please send him up." She replied and cradled the receiver. One last check, just to be sure that everything is right. It is our first date after all, she mused as a playful glint shone in her dark eyes. She had gathered her purse and had a coat ready for his arrival. She smiled widely with the gentle knock on her door.

"Hey." She said casually and took in his clean cut suit.

"Hey yourself." He replied and she stepped aside for him to enter. "Well don't you look amazing." His comment caused a slight blush to work its way to her cheeks.

"Time for a drink before? Or will we be late?"

"We should probably head out." He quickly retrieved her coat and, ever the gentleman, held it out for her.

"Thank you." She buttoned up the coat and picked up her purse from the foyer table. "So where are we off to?"

"It won't be much of a surprise." He led her to the elevators and they waited for the doors to part.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Elle heard the live band playing in the background and recognised it as the place where their worlds collided.

"Well this is an interesting choice." She whispered in his ear.

"Well I didn't have the chance to ask you to dance that night." He paused. "Quite frankly, I nearly missed speaking with you all together."

"True enough." She replied as the host guided them through the softly lit space to a secluded table, tucked neatly behind the lattice 'wall'. "If memory serves, the food is excellent."

"And the band quite good." She tilted her head and then returned her gaze to the menu. "Did I mention how lovely you look this evening?"

"Thank you." Her blush still noticeable in the soft darkness. "So what would you recommend?" she changed the subject.

"Anything that tickles your fancy. It's all very good." He smiled brightly and let his eyes peruse the menu.

A young man arrived to make them aware of the evening's specials; the wine list that accompanied said meals and if they were ready, take their orders. It was a wonderful meal, full of flavour, good wine, and perfect conversation. For the two of them, it was refreshing not to have the 'work' conversation. In passing, Elle threw in the, 'so what do you do for a living' joke and they both cracked up. When their plates were cleared, Gideon gestured for desert— Elle had other ideas.

"We can always have coffee elsewhere if you'd like. If I may be so bold as to ask you to dance with me." Her berry painted lips sparkled slightly as the soft candle light caught the shimmer in the lipstick. His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and he nodded. Standing, he held out his hand and she accepted the return and together, they walked through the sea of tables, down the three steps that separate the floor from the dinning room and arranged themselves. Gideon gently held her soft, slender hand in his and wrapped his arm around her svelte form. Their bodies swayed to a cover of Norah Jones' _Not Too Late(1)_. Their moment of near perfection; however, was interrupted by the sharp ring of his cell phone. He made a face and fumbled in his pockets for his phone.

"Gideon." He somewhat barked as he headed towards the restaurant's lobby and out the front door so he could hear Reid on the other end.

(1) Jones, Norah and Lee. Alexander. _Not Too Late_. Not Too Late (2006).

Not Too Late

_Tell me how you've been  
Tell what you've seen  
Tell me that you'd like to see me, too  
'Cos my heart is full of no blood  
My cup is full of no love  
Couldn't take another sip  
Even if I wanted_

_But it's not too late  
Not too late for love_

_My lungs are out of air  
Yours are holding smoke  
And it's been like that for so long  
I've seen people try to change  
And I know it isn't easy  
But Nothin' worth the time ever is_

And it's not too late  
It's not too late for love…for love… for love…

A/N: I apologise for the length. The first chapter was supposed to be it. The second was supposed to wrap it up, but the piece somehow became something bigger. I hope that the brave souls who have hung in there (I know word count can be daunting) have enjoyed reading this piece as much as I have writing it. As for an actual 'ending' I am unsure as to if, and or when that will be penned. In any case, I suppose that it's never too late.


	4. Home

When Elle had been a member of the team, Gideon had never viewed her as a distraction— perhaps it had more to do with the fact that she was always in plain sight and that it was so easy to be partnered with her while working a case. Usually Morgan and Reid would work together and Hotchner would either fly 'solo' or stay behind with J.J. to work through the cumbersome logistics. He also recalled how when she had first quit the BAU he had 'felt' an empty space and subsequently found himself missing her. As far as he was concerned, she had always been his equal and he missed just having her by his side. Yet now, after a wonderful evening, on his solitary flight to New York, he found himself periodically lifting his head and glancing towards the sofa— somehow expecting to find her sitting with one strong, long, lean leg tucked underneath her; the other bent at the knee with her foot resting on the sofa while she silently read through a file and sipped tea; or gracefully stretched herself out along the sofas length in an attempt to catch whatever sleep she could manage. In an attempt to ignore the urge to daydream— he opened one of the jam packed files that had been given to him prior to his boarding. Fingering the contents, he spread them out across the table in front of him in a vain attempt to refocus his mind on the case at hand. However, he would just as quickly find himself losing the battle of shaking the unsettled/conflicting emotions that whirled within.

With one of his customary strong, deep contemplative sighs— he gathered the scattered contents; crime scene photographs, accompanying reports, interviews, his bright yellow notepad and other notes written on scrap paper and placed them back in the file— closing the file, he set it on top of the others as a mental reminder that he had to return to their contents prior to landing. He then plucked his glasses from their comfortable place on the bridge of his nose and nearly let them fall on top of the files in front of. As if it would assist in ridding himself of whatever it was that had been ailing him— he ran a hand down his face, yet it was just as he had thought; his mind refused to rest. Even when he closed his eyes against the emotional guilt he felt. Granted, he knew that guilt was an odd way of pegging his emotions, yet it appeared to him at that point to make the most sense— he honestly felt himself feeling physically pulled between two worlds which by their very nature, blurred ever so slightly. The first was incredibly familiar— much like an old pair of faded blue jeans, that fulfilled a part of him that made him feel as though he had a purpose. It was a world that he could not possibly imagine leaving. The other was just as new as the first was old, yet managed to keep him off kilter, and was frighteningly unpredictable in an amazingly positive way. A way that he soon realised he enjoyed— reminding him that he was alive.

He slid down the leather and sunk into the seat— then rested his chin against his chest as he so often did and allowed his mind to replay their 'first date', right up until the inevitable phone call that he couldn't help but feel as though had all but ruined the evening. While he may have stood outside her door earlier that morning, returning for the main purpose of picking her up for an actual date was hardly the same thing. He actually felt nervous while he awaited her answer. Once the door opened, he loved the feeling of his lips as they curled into a smile— the sight of her beautiful radiance rendered him speechless. His stomach had suddenly felt like a butterfly cage in which they were literally trying to escape. Did I tell her how truly beautiful she looked? He wondered. When they had arrived at the restaurant, he had been happy and slightly relieved that she had been pleased with his choice as it would serve as the perfect backdrop for them to get reacquainted— it had, after all, been the scene where their worlds had collided. The fluidity of the conversation was natural— the perfect balance between light and comfortable, even the brief moments of silence granted him the chance to watch her as she sat completely open to him, not concealing anything with her body language, which was something that he could appreciate. When they took to the dance floor, he loved the way her svelte body felt against his own and how well they moved together— it had felt as though they had been dancing together for years. Damn the phone, he cursed under his breath as his eyes snapped open and he stared down the distraction. Perhaps personal happiness isn't a pursuit that I am allowed. He sat up slowly and reached for the offending interrupting.

"Gideon." His tone was filled with authority and professionalism. A part of him hoped that it was Elle; even though he knew better.

"I know that you are on your way." Hotchner paused and Gideon heard the softness in his voice.

"Hotch, what is it?" he wondered if they had already apprehended the un-sub, which was highly unlikely considering that it was only the first day of the case.

"Based upon the profile that you were able to provide us with— we have managed to narrow down the list of potential un-subs." That in itself should have been positive news. Both knew that they didn't have much time before the un-sub stuck again.

"You sound as though there is a problem." Gideon pressed. Having worked with Hotchner for as many years as he had, he could read his friend over great distances.

"I suppose there is." He heard Hotchner's sigh and the rustle of the phone as it was being switched from one ear to the other— the background noises changed slightly.

"Look Hotch, I'm about to land in say twenty minutes. This doesn't sound like something that should be discussed over the phone. We can discuss it when I get there." He didn't like having to drag things out of people, so face-to-face was always the best option.

"Okay Jason— I know you're right." Hotchner clicked the end button and Gideon followed; folded the cell phone in half before nearly tossing it back on the table. The tone in Hotchner's voice alone greatly worried Gideon— it had felt as though his colleague had been hiding something from him. Perhaps it was something that was tucked within one of the files that he had somehow missed. Finding more than a second wind, Gideon tore through the remaining files faster than a tornado could rip through a small town. In that short moment of reflection, something jumped out at him. He jotted a few quick notes and slipped them into one of the files. As he rested his head back on the head rest, his thoughts went back to a conversation that he once had with Elle just before he and Hotchner accepted her into the fold.

During the process of considering Elle for the team, Gideon had made sure to go over her file. He wanted; rather needed to be sure that she would not only fit into the pre-existing team— that she was completely capable, which of course she was. However, there was something that troubled him— an inconsistency. Everything that had been enclosed in her file appeared to be on the up-and-up; however, there was something missing. He felt that if she were to become a member of his team; that particular chunk of omitted history required an explanation. Once the dust had settled and the team had boarded the plane back to Virginia, Gideon sat on the sofa next to Elle for a moment.

"When we get back, you and I have to talk." He whispered and she nodded her understanding. He then went to find a vacant seat and settled himself, allowing his body to sink into the softness that cradled him. Hotchner had made a quick pit stop, coffee cup in hand. As if Gideon didn't know about the 'report', he calls Hotchner on it.

"So how's your report going?" he asked looking up at the dark haired special agent, who could only smile slightly and scratch his head in defeat. "Didn't think you could hide that from an old profiler— now did you?" a quick response from Hotchner and then he quietly cleared his throat.

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm going to speak with her once we get back. There are a few things that I have to look further into— otherwise."

"She survived your testing?" Gideon nodded and Hotchner smirked before moving to another seat and settled himself for the flight home.

The team disembarked and were driven back to Quantico to pickup their cars. Gideon watched as Morgan, Reid and Hotchner nearly sprinted to their vehicles. He knew that Hotchner wanted to get home to his family and the younger agents home to rest. Elle stopped behind him.

"You wanted to speak to me?" she inquired and he turned slowly to face her.

"Not here." He gestured for them to head to the elevator. They stepped off into a darkened hallway, glass doors picked up the lighting from the pocket lights in the ceiling that offered small pools of light. The bullpen itself was mostly basked in soft grey shadows, broken only by the sporadic lights left on, so that one could manoeuvre between the desks. Elle followed Gideon to his office.

"Please have a seat." He held out a hand towards the only vacant seat in front of his desk. Elle smiled and did as she was instructed while Gideon removed his jacket and draped it on an empty hook on the coat rack behind his door. Sitting at his desk, he picked up a file, opened it, and placed it in front of him. Elle kept her gaze on him, keeping herself from skimming the contents.

"When you asked me earlier whether I had read your file— I have. Cover to cover. Well what I had thought to be so. There appears to be an obvious omission. An incident when you were nineteen." He lifted his eyes to meet her steel gaze. Her deep, expressive eyes suddenly appeared clouded. She looked down at her hands, which she had neatly folded on her lap. Taking a breath, she re-established eye contact with him.

"Gideon, that is not there because it is not part of my history with the FBI. I fail to see the relevance." She managed to keep her tone even, despite the expression on her face— he could tell that she knew exactly what he wanted to know.

"That's where you're wrong. If you want to be promoted to the BAU— then I would have to say that that information in particular is most definitely relevant." He pushed albeit softly, revealing a bit more of his hand.

"I suppose that the omission that you are referring to is the fact that I was sexually assaulted." She attempted to read him for a moment. See his reaction.

"Elle, you were raped. _Sexual assault_ is an official term used by police and in the court system by lawyers to weaken its impact on the victim during the trial— and that's assuming that the case ever goes to trial. The simple fact that you allow yourself to fall into that mentality shows quite a bit about you as an individual." She wondered how much about her he actually knew and how much he was gleaning from her in that moment. From the look on her face, he knew that she was attempting to hide the fact that in that moment she was reliving the experience— it broke his heart.

"What exactly does it say about me? That I'm attempting to detach myself from what happened? With all due respect sir, what happened— occurred I would say roughly sixteen years ago."

"Well it sounds a lot to me as though you're hardly over it." He cut her off sharply.

"Gideon, how easy was it for you to get over helplessly watching six of your agents and several local police officers get blown to bits by an overly confident, well-beyond cocky, incredibly sexually frustrated, murdering son of a bitch— especially when you know that you could have prevented it?" she snapped— her sharp retort stung him. Even reminded him of his own demons, yet this wasn't about him and he wouldn't allow her to see; instead he kept himself in check.

"I managed to procure your police report." He opened another file. Elle shook her head and made a move to get up.

"What happened is in the past. Granted, I am probably considered a statistic and it is what it is— it does not; however, affect how I do my job. In fact, it keeps me motivated." She stood, her small frame elongated by her sheer determination. Gideon nodded his understanding.

"That's what I needed to know. It says here; however, that they were unable to apprehend your attacker." She shrugged her strong shoulders, pulled them back and quickly picked up her bag. "Well then, I suppose we'll see you tomorrow morning." He smiled and she turned.

"I'm sorry sir— what was that?"

"Gideon is fine. We generally start at nine." He added with a wink. She sighed deeply.

"Thank you Gideon." She smiled. "Goodnight— I'll see you tomorrow."

"You may want to arrive a bit earlier. I think they have a desk for you and the transfer paperwork will require your signature." She nodded and quickly headed out; bag in hand a spring in her step as she walked towards the elevators.

—Quantico, Virginia—

Elle had meanwhile settled herself for a quiet evening—having showered and wrapped herself in her silky robe, had made a mug of tea and curled herself up in the comfortable over-stuffed armchair. Mug carefully held in one hand, the television remote in the other flipping through the channels. Her mind; however, wouldn't be pacified with the lightness of a romantic comedy, or the bone chilling, blood curdling screams of the victims in horror flicks, or the bulky heroes from action films. She tapped the mute button, allowed her head to fall back into the soft cushion, and closed her eyes in thought. Far too much perfection is all she could think of— if, of course that were even possible, her musing soft and light as she carefully sipped the hot liquid. Was this how it was going to be? She wondered. How foolish she had felt going to the coat check and 'following' him outside, with hope that it was a false alarm and they could go back inside. She knew that wouldn't be the case— immediately saw it in his posture when she found him standing just outside the front double doors; away from the small circle of smokers who shuddered with teeth chattering against the cold— tossing their butts onto the slushy asphalt before heading back inside. He had one hand shoved deeply into the pocket of his trousers while he kept his back to the northerly wind that violently blew its way across the vast parking lot— bringing with it, thick snowflakes. She heard the sound of trees as they found themselves helplessly caught up in the gusts— they swayed back and forth, and then side to side; their thin, naked, wiry branches rubbing against themselves as if in an attempt to keep warm, which created an odd, hollow sound that wasn't quite a rustle, yet eerie in the sporadic crackling sounds that made one wonder if the tree would tumble to the ground. She watched for a moment, unsure as to whether or not she should interrupt him—after all, she knew the nature of the call, as he stood under the canopy, eyes closed against the fluffy snowflakes that settled on his broad shoulders and clung to his dark, neatly cropped hair. She held out his coat as she closed the distance between them and he grinned as he shoved the cell phone in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"Thank you. Sweetheart, you'll catch your death." He noticed that she wasn't wearing her coat and quickly took it from her and held it out for her to slip her arms into the awaiting sleeves. After a long pause between them, Elle looked down, and slowly brought her gaze up to meet his soft eyes.

"Go." She tried not to be emotional about the situation— and found herself wondering how many times Haley had said the very same thing to Hotchner and didn't mean it. Yet she knew that he had to go, knew what he had to do and how it made him feel. After all, he had done what he had for so many years and that would never change. His expression softened further and he wrapped a strong arm around her, she leaned into him against the cold and he led her to his black SUV. Pulling back his expression changed. "The faster you get there, the better. Jason, I'll take a cab home." She added and kissed his cheek.

"No, you will not take a cab home. While this isn't exactly how I wanted our fist date to end, you're on my way. Besides, it wouldn't be a proper ending would it? I wouldn't be able to tell you how incredible you look, or how much I have enjoyed our time together, or." He paused and captured her snow kissed face in his hands and brushed his lips against hers— she returned the kiss with the promise of something more. "Experience the wonder of the goodnight kiss and tell you that I would call you." He felt as if he were babbling, Elle just enjoyed the moment of stopping him mid-sentence to graze her lips against his cheek and then reaching up to cup his face in her small hands, kiss him once more. Although both knew that it wouldn't change anything, reality being what it was, she didn't want him to feel any worse than he already appeared.

Turning off the television, Elle brought her fingers to her lips in thought. A quick glance at the clock brought another thought of him. She reached for the telephone and dialled his cell, knowing that he would probably be in the air, or possibly asleep; depending on where he was off to. Either way, a quick goodnight seemed appropriate. His voice mail clicked in and she left a brief message, carefully cradled the receiver and took her mug to the kitchen. The night may have been young— Elle; however, was in the process of coming down from being a bundle of nerves to feeling more comfortable. As she made her way to her bedroom, she turned off the remaining lights and went into the adjoining bath to brush her teeth. She removed her robe, laid it out at the foot of her bed, and pulled back the down-filled comforter and sheets. Climbing into bed, she nestled herself underneath, turned out the light and closed her eyes.

—New York, Local Police Station—

Gideon entered the station and went straight to the archives to gather the needed file. There had been something in her file that had stuck out, that seemed far too close to their recent case to ignore. The officer was quick in retrieving the file, which he thanked her for as he took it. Quickly thumbing through the contents, his eyes fell on the photos of Elle. She had fought off her attacker as best as she could, but her bloody face and terribly bruised body pained him— especially knowing what she had gone through and that the NYPD had been unable to do anything to apprehend the assailant. Judging from the degree of violence inflicted upon her, he immediately concluded that Elle had to have been some time during the un-sub's first attacks— during the practice stage; during the time when the un-sub was in the process of working out what worked best. The only question Gideon had at this point was: What was the stressor? In Elle's case, it had all of the touches of a random act, which was probably one of the reasons why the police handled it in the manner they had. If it had been a crime of opportunity, why did it appear as though she knew her attacker, perhaps had been too afraid to name him at the time.

"As I worked through the victimology, I came across one major similarity. That all of our victims were of the same stature, had the same colour hair and eyes, and of the same personality." Prentiss looked down at her notes. That was what Hotchner had kept hidden from him. Prentiss was supposed to be back at Quantico working with Garcia until further notice.

"All of our victims, and correct me if I'm wrong, approximately twenty in all." Reid piped in.

"That's now twenty-one— possibly more." Gideon called from where he stood at the open door.

"I'm sorry sir?" Prentiss' expression was one of surprise at his swift arrival— and with it, news of another victim.

"Hotch? A word please?" Gideon gestured for the door and Hotchner quickly caught up with the seasoned profiler. They grabbed another empty conference room and Gideon closed the door.

"We were only able to get information on twenty victims." Hotchner's face wore an expression of surprise as Gideon knew that they would not have heard of Elle's attack.

"I have yet to test the theory to see if it holds any water, but I'm guessing that if we were to look at sexual assaults over the past say, sixteen years or so, we would find a commonality among the victims." He paused and Hotchner noticed the file tucked under his arm. Gideon quickly handed him the file and Hotchner's eyebrows shot up, nearly meeting his hairline.

"How could I have missed this?" he uttered under his breath.

"So I think we have to adapt our profile slightly. We would be looking for a white male in his late thirties into his forties." Hotchner thought for a minute. "Jason, Elle never told me about that."

"I have my ways." He sighed and they headed back to the conference room where the rest of the team worked through their many hypothesises.

"You do realise that this puts the two of us in a very awkward position?" Hotchner's question was heard by their team mates. Gideon nodded and sighed.

"What is it?" J.J. inquired from her seat next to Reid, who sat twiddling a Bic pen between thin fingers. Hotchner glanced at Gideon to tell them— neither liked keeping secrets from their team members. Hotchner sat himself in the vacant seat between Morgan and Prentiss, while Gideon leaned himself against the window frame and nodded.

"We have a new list. An old list actually— however, from it I'm fairly certain that we will acquire the name of our un-sub." He paused and leaned towards table, letting the file fall upon it. They all saw the name printed on it in thick black ink: Greenaway, which caused their expressions to morph into confusion.

"Elle?" Morgan reached out for the file and had to close it quickly. Reid reached out and he stopped him by grabbing the cardboard file from the youngest profiler's grasp. Having not known Elle, Prentiss figured that looking over the file wouldn't affect her. What she saw made her sick, not because the team knew the victim so much as what Elle had obviously gone through.

"That sick bastard. I don't suppose these recent victims are better off?" she muttered and placed the file back on the table. "Reid, I wouldn't." she looked up at Gideon and read his expression in an instant. "Sir, how many cases are there really?"

"Morgan, what is it that you ask of Garcia?" Gideon inquired as if trying to lighten their situation.

"To work me a little magic." He replied, trying to sound light despite how he felt. He picked up his cell phone and quickly pounded her number. "Yeah Garcia?" the team sat back in their seats, darkness seemed to sweep over them.

"I was wondering how the Big Apple was my sweet." He could hear the smile in her voice, could almost see the bright pink lipstick she wore. "What is it?" she added when he didn't have a quick quip.

"It's Elle. We need you to run a search."

"What happened? Is she okay?"

"I don't' really know— you would have to ask Gideon." Morgan handed Gideon the cell phone.

"Is Elle okay?"

"Last time I saw her, she was." He paused. "We have reason to believe that our recent un-sub raped her.

"Oh goodness, you're kidding me."

"I'm afraid not." She heard the sigh and quickly started typing catch phrases into her bank of 'infinite knowledge'.

"I'm on it. Oh gosh!"

"What?"

"Take your pick."

"Garcia." She could hear the urgency in his tone.

"There are over fifteen rapes between then and now in the New York area." He still heard her frantically typing away. "I'm sending all the information that I can. I'm pretty sure that they would be archived; however, I don't understand why they wouldn't have connected them." She rattled off some more facts and he handed the phone back to Morgan.

"Thanks baby doll." Morgan clicked the end button and they awaited the information in an uncomfortable silence. Morgan got up and clapped Gideon's shoulder. "Coffee? Or something stronger?" he headed out to the common room, J.J. not far behind. When they returned, they placed the paper cups on the table.

"Thanks." Prentiss took one and added cream. She opened Elle's file again, doing so carefully, not to upset Hotchner or Gideon. "Elle was his first." She looked up at Gideon. "While he got what he wanted, his intent wasn't to hurt her."

"I'm sorry?" Morgan nearly choked on the mouthful of coffee.

"Well, with Elle, it looks to me as though it wasn't a random crime. The others possibly knew their attacker as well— that's how he got into their homes in the first place, but from how everything was left at the crime scenes he only showed remorse for Elle. Not a shred for the others." She rested her chin in her hand and thumbed through the file. "I'm not in any way attempting to suggest that Elle was lucky. After all, she was the only one who survived." Reid stole a glance at the contents of the file, Gideon watched as the young genius' face paled and he looked as though he would be sick.

"How could anyone had done that to Elle?" Gideon could only shake his head sadly and placed the paper cup on the nearby shelf. Once the rest of their request started to filter in, they re-established their profile.

J.J. stood at the lone sink in the ladies room and splashed cold water over her pink cheeks. Running slender fingers through her hair, she made sure that her blonde locks weren't full of static. A deep sigh and she thought she was ready to face the media— face the sea of reporters, who really didn't care what she had to say, so long as it got them the desired ratings. Prentiss gently tapped on the door and opened it slowly.

"Are you okay?" she inquired, allowing the door to close behind. J.J. nodded with a broken smile. "I know that this isn't exactly the best case."

"The sad part is that Gideon is the only one who is keeping it together." J.J. shook her head. "I know that we're not supposed to know, but I think he's been seeing Elle." She said in a hushed tone. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but he has had this wonderfully happy air about him that looks as though it has just been shattered."

"That burst the moment he arrived." Prentiss put a reassuring hand on J.J.'s shoulder. "I know that I'm not on the inside of the family. I often find myself feeling like the cousin or something to that effect."

"Emily, you're as much a part of this team as any of us." J.J. finished adding a touch of peach shimmer lip gloss to her lips.

"That's not true and you know it." Prentiss looked down for a moment, her raven locks falling from behind her ear.

"I'm sorry that your feel that way. I for one have done my best to make you feel comfortable. Well, aside from nearly shooting you in Atlanta."

"J.J., hardly your fault. You had narrowly missed being ripped apart by those dogs."

"Yeah, don't remind me of the screw up of the century." She sighed and put the lip gloss back in her purse. Straightening her suit jacket, she squared her shoulders and nodded. "Here we go." She added and they headed out to the front of the police station where the media frenzy was already in full swing. Gideon and Hotchner stood at the fringe of the huddled group, teeth and claws bared— ready to pounce upon the media specialist. No sooner had she stepped in front of the microphone, J.J. had the press eating out of the palm of her slight hand.

"Please keep in mind that we believe this individual probably already knows his intended victim." She paused and the question period began.

"How is it that the age of the suspect is mid thirties to early forties and his victims are in or around nineteen?" a reporter shouted at J.J., Gideon's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. They had over-looked that simple fact. J.J.'s glance fell upon him and he nodded slowly.

"We believe that he is emulating the first attack. All of this is his way of reliving whatever emotions he had experienced during the first time." That answer would have been precisely what Gideon would have said and he slowly exhaled— waiting for the press conference to end. Hotchner reached out and tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"You're much too close to this." He said quietly and all Gideon could manage was a nod of agreement. "At this point, it would probably be for the best that you go back to Quantico. I'm sure that with the information that we do have, we will be successful."

"No, I need to be useful." Gideon replied and headed back towards the police station. "We'll break into groups and interview the suspects on the lists." He said over his shoulder as the team filtered back into the station.

—Quantico, Virginia—

Having spent a busy Sunday afternoon running errands, Elle had just managed to make it home in time for the evening news. When she caught J.J.'s press conference, her heart nearly leapt up through her throat. The news broadcast had muted the footage and the reporter's voiceover commented on their footage.

"As you can see, the media's role with be significant in catching the man who has spent many years silently stalking nineteen-year-olds in the New York area." It felt strange for her to be watching it from so far away. She noticed how the media had been specific in their attempt at keeping the true area under a cloak. No one wanted to have a real rain wash over them again. The last time the BAU assisted the NYPD with a case, it not only ended tragically; the general public had empathised with their un-sub as his choice of victim wasn't as innocent as this time round. Turning off the television, Elle pressed the play button on the CD player and made her way to the kitchen to make something for dinner. As she pressed the cycle for the dishwasher, the phones sharp ring broke into her thoughts.

"Hello." She hadn't had the chance to mute the music.

"How are you doing?" Gideon's voice filled with emotion, which she knew he was trying to hide.

"I'm fine. I know I can't really ask you how your case is, but I can ask you how you are." She wished that she could sit next to him and offer him her shoulder, as it sounded as if he truly needed it. "Oh, and please spare me the Gideon 'I'm fine' bit." She added and heard the slight chuckle in his throat.

"I would be doing a lot better if we had the un-sub in custody before he strikes again. J.J. did a fantastic job with the press conference."

"Top notch, as usual." She sat on the sofa, picked up the remote and muted the music.

"Listening to Sinatra?"

"You know your music." She heard Hotchner in the background talking to another agent and assumed it to be Prentiss. "There's something that I want to tell you."

"If its case related. I know and understand that you cannot talk to me about it."

"We need to interview you."

"Pardon?"

"I'm fairly certain that you were the un-sub's first victim. First and only victim who lived through the ordeal." Elle felt the blood literally freeze in her veins before it seemed to drain from her body. She hadn't thought much about what had happened to her and she wasn't in the mood to relive the whole experience.

"Jason." She said in a small voice.

"I know I should never have asked this of you. Especially since you've never truly gotten over the whole situation." He felt horrible and she heard Hotchner's voice once more.

"What do you need?"

"I'm sorry?" he hadn't been sure if he had heard her correctly.

"What do you need from me?" she repeated.

"Obviously, I managed to get a copy of your report when I landed. I have compared the findings to some of his other victims. I know that this may not sound very comforting— you were the only victim to have survived his attack. I need to know if any of these names seem familiar to you."

"I'll do my best." She said; her hands still felt like ice cubes.

"I'm so sorry to be doing this to you." He paused as someone handed him a piece of paper. "John Andrews, Timothy Stone, Nicholas Thomas, Shawn Mitchell, Michael Humphreys, Mathew McDonald."

"Wait a moment." She paused and thought back for a long moment. She had attended her cousin's birthday party and had to leave early as she had suddenly taken ill. "Nicholas was my cousin's boyfriend."

"Elle, I understand that this can be very difficult. I'm going to have Morgan and Prentiss conduct an interview."

"But I would feel more comfortable if you were with me." She wished she had kept that last part under wraps.

"How quickly can you get to New York?"

"I'll take the train and get there as soon as I can." She sighed loudly and he felt worse than he did prior to asking her.

"I'll meet you at the station, dear." He said in his soothing tone— that was the one thing she knew that would get her through the process of reliving the nightmare— Jason.

"See you soon." She slowly cradled the receiver and quickly made the arrangements necessary; called work to let them know that she would be away so that meetings could be rescheduled, and procured a train ticket. It had been one thing when it had happened; it felt entirely different to be forced to relive the experience. Yet somehow she knew that if this un-sub had been her attacker, she would at the very least have some of the closure she hadn't thought possible.

As boarded the train, Elle shuddered against the memories that flooded through her mind. I have to be strong; she scolded herself and sat back in her seat— closing her eyes, she hoped that whatever sleep she could grab would be enough to get through the emotional rollercoaster she would be embarking on. When the train pulled into the station, Elle opened her eyes and gathered her quickly packed over night bag, checked to be sure that she hadn't left anything behind and followed the crowd off the train. Gideon had said that he would meet her at the station— what she thought he had meant was just outside the station. There he stood on the platform awaiting her arrival. The expression he wore was soft and comforting— that not matter what she would endure, she knew that it would be all right.

"Jason." She smiled brightly and set her bag on the platform at her feet and he wrapped her tightly, protectively within his strong arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and then her temple— she lifted her face up to him and kissed him.

"Let's get you settled." He picked up her bag for her and tucked his arm around her slender waist. "The team will be happy to see you." He added and helped her into the awaiting SUV.

"I wish it would have been under better circumstances." She said with her gaze fixed on the world that existed beyond the tinted window. It had been a while since she had been back— and that had only been due to a case. Strange how home still felt like home; despite 'running' away.

"If for any reason you cannot do this, I want you to tell me." He said as he took one of her hands in his. She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Did you want to start right now?" she inquired, moving to pick up her over night bag.

"Tomorrow morning. I thought that you would need some rest." He said quietly as the SUV pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"I'll get checked in then." She climbed out of the vehicle, Gideon followed closely behind.

"Actually, I can bunk with Hotch and you can have my room." He said leading her past the front desk.

"Jason, I couldn't impose." Her protest silenced by the brush of a finger gently across her lips.

"You're not imposing my dear." He fished the door card from his coat pocket. "I'll just grab a few things while you get settled." He opened the door and she stepped into the room. Closing the door behind, he quickly engaged the security lock and moved to gather a few things.

"Please don't go." The words escaped her lips like a whisper that washed over him. He turned form the drawer and their eyes locked. "Right now, I don't know if I could stand being alone." Her deep, dark eyes held his in her plea. His lips parted as if to say something— instead, he silently nodded and put whatever he held in his hand back in his bag. She stood in front of him felling rather lost. He walked back over towards her and gently took the bag from her iron grip.

"It's okay." He cooed in her ear and held her to him. She whimpered and he felt the wetness and heat of her tears through his shirt. She lifted her head form his chest.

"I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You need to get some rest. Change for bed. I'll sleep on the little sofa they have there." Was said over his shoulder as he made his way to the closet and retrieved the extra blanket. Elle took her bag with her into the bathroom and searched for her nightshirt. Quickly undressed and slipped the silky material over her head with a gentle swoosh; she found her toothbrush and brushed her teeth before pulled the elastic that held her hair up and ran her comb through her espresso/chocolate coloured locks. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Gideon on the narrow sofa.

"You don't look very comfortable." Her comment was accompanied by softly tugging on his t-shirt. "Besides, this is your room and you have just as busy a day as I do ahead." He sat up.

"Again, Elle please understand that this isn't me attempting to seduce you."

"You did that a long time ago." Her blush worked its way right from her toes. Turning off a light, they each grabbed the top blanket and yanked it so that they could slide into the large bed. Gideon reached for the lamp on the nightstand and turned out the light.

"Goodnight." He whispered.

"Goodnight." She turned onto her side and closed her eyes— a sense of calmness washed over her and she hoped that would keep the nightmares away.

—New York: Police Station—

When the arrived at the station, Gideon and Elle found the team huddled together in the conference room— the contents of a file strewn out across the table. Morgan held one photograph, Reid wrote something quickly on a scrap piece of paper while Prentiss read through a report and Hotchner went over the coroner's initial report.

"The complete autopsy will be sent along as soon as it becomes available. The coroner's office said that they would put a rush on it." Hotchner looked up, as if sensing their arrival. He wore a tired expression, his eyes darker than usual and his posture was far more rigid than Elle had remembered.

"Good morning." He nodded and the rest of the team's attention was diverted from their tasks. "Elle." He added and managed a soft smile. She looked down feeling a bit self-conscious in their presence. "I hope that you know that we are not going to grill you. We feel that whatever you can remember might help us." He paused and turned his gaze towards Gideon. "He struck again."

"This escalation or devolution isn't the norm when dealing with un-subs of this nature." Reid piped in, lifted his head from his notes and slid them towards Morgan, who sat back in his seat.

"Its hard not to have a preconceived notion when this seems to be the most interesting thing the media can report." Elle kept close to Gideon, so much so that if the team hadn't been aware of the source of his sudden happiness— would now know. "I'll do my best to help you out." She added. Morgan got up and made his way towards her.

"We'll get this guy and nail him to the wall." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. She covered his hand with hers.

"How would you like to do this?" Hotchner inquired as he moved towards the table for his notepad. Everyone knew that he had a series of questions to ask.

She turned her head to captures Gideon's caring eye. Hotchner nodded.

"Jason will stay with you the whole time. Morgan, do you think that you can handle this?" he held out his notepad. Morgan's expression dropped and he shook his head.

"As far away from this as we are, it's Elle." He looked away.

"You're our obessional crimes expert."

"That may be; however, I repeat myself here and say that this is Elle. Not some random victim that we're lucky enough to have to interview." He sighed loudly and sat himself back in his seat.

"I'll do it sir." Prentiss suddenly spoke up. "I don't know Elle as all of you do. I could offer un-biased assistance." She reached for the notepad and Hotchner's grip turned iron and he looked at Gideon quickly in thought. Gideon nodded.

"If Elle is okay with that arrangement, then I am. Elle, I'll stay with you while Prentiss conducts the interview." She nodded her agreement and he led her to another room, Prentiss on their heels.

Elle stopped to get a paper cup of coffee and a bottle of water— she wasn't sure how long it would take and wanted to get it over with as painlessly as possible. They entered the small room, there was a two-way mirror, which she knew as the team became more comfortable with her; they would occasionally make use of. Prentiss sat, placed the notepad on the table and took out a second from her shoulder bag and a pen. Elle slowly eased herself into the chair and kept her breathing as calm as she could— Gideon took the seat beside her and hoped that he could keep neutral in the situation. Prentiss then pressed the button on the recording device that sat on the table.

"This is just in case I miss something." She tried to keep her expression warm and inviting— knowing the nature of the interview, she wanted it to go as smoothly as possible. She glanced down at the questions and began to formulate her interview method. "After having reviewed the police reports, you have stated that you were on your way home from a party or gathering?" Elle nodded.

"It was my cousin's twentieth birthday— her boyfriend Nicholas and I threw her a surprise party at her house. I remember having a curfew even though my mother was away visiting my aunt, but for some reason I wasn't feeling well." She paused and rolled her eyes at her mistake. "I didn't want to impose and Nicholas volunteered to drive me home." She picked up the paper cup and blew over the rim to cool the still steaming liquid.

"Nicholas drove you home. Did he drop you off at your front door? Did he wait for you to get inside safely?" Elle nodded.

"I remember opening the front door and waving him off. He always made sure that we were safely inside before pulling away. I watched him drive down the street as I always did." She sat back in the uncomfortable chair and thought for a moment. "The house wasn't totally dark— I had been sure to leave a few lights on, so when I arrived home I wouldn't have to fumble about in the pitch black."

"Who was usually there with you?"

"It would have been my mother. My father died in the line of duty when I was nine. I had finals, so she let me stay home to study." Gideon watched her profile carefully while Prentiss jotted a few quick notes.

"So what you're saying is that everything appeared to be fine?" Elle thought for a moment.

"Other than not feeling very well— wait that's it."

"I'm sorry?" Prentiss looked puzzled, but it seemed to hit her at the same time.

"Well, usually you are aware of your surroundings. If anything were to have been out of the ordinary, I'm pretty sure that I would have noticed. All I remember is closing and locking the door right behind me and suddenly feeling so dizzy that all I wanted was to go to bed. I stumbled up the stairs, and felt as though I was dragging myself to my bedroom." She started to pale, Gideon placed a comforting hand on her arm and leaned towards her.

"You're safe. I'm here." He whispered and felt her head bob under his lips. She reached out another sip of coffee.

"What happened to you Elle?" Prentiss prompted and watched as Gideon's expression fell.

"Feeling as I did, I decided against changing and went straight to my bedroom— closed the door intending to flop into bed. It all happened so quickly, I hardly had my bedroom door closed when someone grabbed me and dragged me to the floor. All of a sudden, I couldn't really move very well. Everything around me was blurry, he was just a shadow." She gulped for air and felt the sting of tears as she recalled what had happened to her. "I remember thinking that he was going to kill me. Something inside me clicked and I kicked and screamed and batted at the air hoping to hit him. I think I scratched him and I know I bit him. It didn't stop him Jason. He ripped the buttons of my favourite blouse, snipped my bra, pulled down my jeans and panties and." She stopped, unable to continue— she nearly chocked on fresh tears. "It hurt so much, his lips kissing, his tongue licking, his hands roaming all over my body— left bruises nearly everywhere he touched and I remember him saying not to fight so much. That if I just lay back, of I got into it— I would enjoy it. I think I kneed him, but it didn't stop him and when it was over— he lifted me off the floor and placed me in my own bed. He kissed my forehead before saying that he had made me a true woman." She sniffed and let her head fall into her hands in an attempt to calm down. Her description brought tears of anger to Gideon's eyes; even Prentiss felt for Elle and wanted to place an arm around her shoulders. She couldn't' imagine what the others would want to do to the un-sub. Prentiss didn't know what to say.

"I have just one more question." She said quietly, breaking the suddenly deafening silence.

"I think Elle has been through enough." Gideon gently brushed her face with calloused fingers. Slowly pulling away from his caress, Elle thought for a moment.

"This may sound odd— but his voice is one I have never forgotten." Prentiss nodded before leaving them alone. Gideon pressed his forehead against hers and then his lips. "Thank you." She whispered and together, Gideon nearly had to hold her upright as her legs felt like rubber, went back to the conference room.

"Gideon, take Elle back to the hotel. We are going to go through their list of suspects. Elle, are you sure that you could recognise your attackers voice?" Hotchner turned to her and she nodded. "We'll call you. Gideon, please stay with her, your far too close to the investigation." He added and Gideon seemed to agree with Hotchner's observation.

To be continued…

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A/N: I had originally thought this to be the last chapter as I realise that at three chapters it is well over 20,000 words and this chapter will only add to that count. As previously mentioned, I had only intended this to be one chapter and that was it; however, it seems to have grown from that. I am currently working on the next chapter and hope to have everything wrapped up with a neat bow as soon as I can. I just want to thank everyone once again for having patience with me while I'm in the writing process and to those who have taken the time to read and leave a review. It is most appreciated. I hope you have enjoyed this instalment. 


	5. Just a Few More Steps

A/N: Quickly, there is one section that may be a bit 'graphic' for some, so I thought I ought to warn you (The un-sub relives his experience once again).

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Interwoven within the customary bustle of the precinct was the tension that swirled around the team that was felt by those around them, yet went unnoticed by the team members themselves. Tension, was an unwritten 'norm' intermingled with frustration and fatigue— especially in two instances. The first of which was cases that revolved around children and the second was when a case directly affected the team as a whole, or individual members. This case, in particular, reeked of the Garner case. What had begun as case that revolved around the team as a whole— which resulted in their nearly loosing Elle. Then there was the Buford case— ultimately revealing Morgan's personal, very well hidden demons that he had fought so hard to keep undercover. More recently, their youngest team member had been touched on a very personal level— one that left him feeling responsible for being unable to help a young man who cried out for help. That case had not been closed with Nathan Harris as their un-sub— rather his attempted suicide, which Hotchner knew would leave an everlasting impression on the young profiler. The image of the young man's blood clinging to Reid's hands like red gloves would forever be etched in his memory. No one could truly comprehend how Reid felt, not even him— as he watched Gideon try and comfort him as he rubbed at his hands, the blood; however, remained as if mocking him in his failure to help. Hardly a heart beat went by that Reid found himself victim to Tobias Henkel. Hotchner's mind refused to quiet as his body shuddered against the thoughts that passed though his mind of the events that the team had endeared— and how they somehow felt as though they had occurred in such a short period of time. Finally able to turn his mind to the present, their case, and his team members who where frantically piecing together the puzzle— he sighed loudly and leaned himself against the nearby desk that had been shoved into the corner of the room.

Prentiss and Morgan sat together at the large table with their heads bent towards one another— she scribbled notes onto the notepad that sat on the table at her elbow, reminding him of how Elle used to be meticulous in her note taking. Morgan pointed to something, Prentiss nodded and he picked up his cell phone. Hotchner figured that he must be calling Garcia for updated information— as they decided that more often than not, most individuals often relocate. It would therefore only be logical to obtain their recent addresses. They hoped that they would substantially cut their list down. J.J. and Reid stood off to the side; she held a paper cup of tea, the string of the teabag dangled gracefully over the rim and the paper slip brushed against the back of her hand. Reid leaned casually against the windowsill, his long sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows, spindly arms intertwined across his chest as he nodded his agreement to something that J.J. had said. While Hotchner had been present, standing fairly close to them— even watched as her lightly coloured lips moved, he hadn't actually heard a word she had said.

"Garcia, are you sure?" Morgan's voice seemed to boom in the quiet room, his tone serious, and immediately caught the attention of the others. Hotchner quickly took a seat at the long table and waited for whatever news came their way. While he and the rest of the team couldn't hear what was being said on Garcia's side of the conversation, he couldn't keep his mind from thinking what she might be saying to the younger agent— as she always had an interesting flair with sexually charged innuendo; regardless of how dire their situation. He recalled the few times that he happened to be on the receiving end of some of her banter and thought of how boarder line inappropriate her comments had been and how lucky he felt that her little L.U.S.T comment had completely flown over Gideon's head— unless, of course, Gideon hadn't wanted to engage in her banter. When Morgan's cell phone hit the laminated tabletop, Hotchner locked eyes with his.

"What is it Morgan?" he prompted. Morgan thought for a moment.

"Hotch; I'm not exactly sure as to how good the news is." He paused as J.J. and Reid sat themselves at the table. "Garcia ran an extensive search. She was able to run the names we gave her and also managed to pull up quite a few others from previous unsolved case files." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "We are looking at approximately fifty possible un-subs."

"She had been careful to take into consideration the sixteen to seventeen years right?" J.J. inquired and Hotchner noticed how her blue eyes suddenly darkened under the florescent lightening from their usually sparkling aquamarine to a deep, almost dead sapphire. Reid had also noticed— unlike Hotchner, he knew that no matter how well J.J. managed to keep up a façade, her eye colour always gave away whatever she was thinking or feeling. He reached up and placed a comforting hand on her forearm. His light touch cool against her warm skin.

"Essentially, we have to find a way to cut that list down." Prentiss thought carefully for a moment. "Elle did say that she has never forgotten the voice of the man who raped her."

"Yes, and if we were able to interview each and every possible suspect the police had— and tape each interview." Hotchner paused as an expression of hope lit his usually dark, contemplative features.

"We hardly have that luxury." Prentiss quipped.

"It would get us one step closer to closing the case." Reid knew that it was a serious situation, and yet he couldn't keep the bright smile the thought of apprehending the un-sub brought to his lips. Regardless of how bad their current situation was, Hotchner, J.J., and Morgan couldn't but feel happy to see him smile once more. He had regressed into himself so much that they had begun to wonder if they would ever see the 'old Reid' again. "My main concern at this moment is how all of this is going to affect Elle. I know that she is strong, but she has just relieved an experience that she has probably spent years trying to forget— all in a matter of hours during Emily's interview." Her head snapped up, her expression one of offence.

"She had Gideon by her side then and I know that he'll continue to be there for her." Hotchner blurted out without thought. All eyes darted towards him as his words confirmed what they all had suspected. He swallowed hard once he realised what he had just said.

"It's okay Hotch, we've known for a while." Morgan's smile was a mixture of mystery and playfulness and Hotchner found it very contagious. The rest of the team nodded their joint knowledge of something going on between the two and he exhaled loudly. "Besides, Hotch— if we were so unaware, what kind of profilers would we be?" he added and tapped his temple with his index and middle fingers. Hotchner only shook his head with a wide grin— relief written all over his face.

"Garcia said that she will be sending us the complete list then?" Hotchner said as if placing the train back on its tracks.

"Yes, of course. I suppose that we could break it up and go from there." Morgan thought for a moment.

"There is still one problem." Prentiss shifted in her seat and tilted her head to the side— her pin-straight raven locks swished over her ear by the sudden movement.

"We cannot just tape the interview without the subject's knowledge and consent— and even if they are innocent, not everyone is comfortable with that." Reid unfolded his arms and stood then shoved his hands in his khaki pants pockets. "— and if we were to bring them to the station, there is no doubt in my mind that they would become suspicious." He thought for a moment, yet was unable to voice an alternative.

"Damn it, your right— and even if we did tape the conversation, assuming that they were unaware of it, it wouldn't hold up." Hotchner seemed to be mentally going over the legal loop holes in his mind— the prosecutor in him rose to the surface.

"That makes it inadmissible at best, which in essence sets up the perfect roadblock." Prentiss stood and moved towards the desk where J.J. had placed the coffee decanter. She poured herself a cup and took a sip. "What if Elle were with us?"

"Oh I DON'T think so!" Morgan nearly jumped out of his seat at the suggestion. "I wouldn't inflict that on any of you, nor would I do that to her or any other victim for that matter. That's incredibly cold— even for you Emily."

"It may be our only chance." She sighed loudly and sat back in her seat.

"We'll I'm afraid that we are quickly running out of options." Hotchner licked his lips, his thoughts interrupted by the gentle tap on the metal doorframe.

"Excuse me. Agent Morgan?" a fairly young looking officer inquired as she stepped further into the room bearing what appeared to be a fair number of pages in hand.

"Yes?" he lifted his gaze— his chocolate brown eyes met with large pools of nearly perfect emerald.

"Penelope Garcia sent you this via fax." She held the pages out towards him. "She said that it included all known addresses for the subjects in your case." He took the pages.

"Un-sub." He hadn't meant to correct her, it was just a reflex. She turned and left the team to go over the various pages. Reid ran a finger down the fist page.

"I don't believe that this list is as bad as we initially thought." He turned his attention to the blank blackboard and grabbed a piece of white chalk. Writing twenty names on the board, he stepped back and then ran a line through Nicholas Thomas' name.

"We should at least interview him." Prentiss spoke up.

"Why? You wrote in your report that he drove Elle home and that she had been sure that he had driven away." Reid put the chalk back on the ledge and took a defensive posture.

"Okay. Reason number one: the un-sub chose Elle for a reason. Two, Elle watched as the car drove down the street."

"Yes. However, it is entirely possible that he could have parked around the corner." Morgan said and sat back in his seat.

"Point taken— keeping in mind the fact that he was dating Elle's cousin. So Elle would recognise his voice and be able to associate it with the incident." Hotchner nodded his agreement with her reasoning. "Now if said cousin had passed away during that year; that might be considered a stressor. However, out of the proper time frame which leads me to believe that he's not our un-sub."

"I suppose when you look at it that way— Sharon didn't pass away until two years following the incident." J.J. added.

"Third, we know that Nicholas returned to the party. So it's entirely possible that it was another attendee at the party and it's plausible that Elle doesn't recall speaking to the individual in question. Well, she would, if only she heard his voice again. I would think that she had somehow managed to block that night, no matter how much fun she did have at the event, from her memory. It is a defence mechanism after all— one that would be odd that she hadn't tried." Prentiss walked up to the board, picked up the separate files of suspects and jotted their ages at the time of the attack next to their names, and then their current ages.

"I highly doubt that our un-sub was Elle's age." She stated and quickly scratched off a series of names. Morgan thought for a moment and nearly snickered.

"I'll bet that he didn't even attend the same school as her." he paused and pursed his full lips together. "Especially when you take into consideration that the group of kids attending that party were a mixture of high school and collage— possibly a friend of Nicholas'. Come to think of it, what collage guy wants to be turned down by a first year?"

"He wanted to assert his masculinity." Hotchner looked at one of the names.

"I would imagine that he had met Elle through her cousin or Nicholas, as you have already suggested— that granted him access to her. Made him believe that was his 'in'." Morgan added.

"Exactly— no one would think twice about him talking with her. I'd bet that he had asked her to dance, maybe chatted her up a bit, and used that opportunity to slip something into her drink with the thought of having what he wanted. I suppose that he miscalculated the affects of whatever it was that he had slipped in her drink. When she said that she didn't feel well, she had unknowingly denied him— which in turn, resulted in a bruised ego." As Morgan spoke, Reid wondered how they had missed making the connection before.

"You have got to be kidding me." J.J.'s hand flew to her mouth in shock. She could hardly believe what Elle must have gone through. "Poor Elle." She added and Morgan resumed his thought.

"He probably overheard that she wanted to leave the party— maybe even offered her a ride home."

"Only she declined on account that she didn't know him well enough and because Nicholas had already agreed to take her."

"So he insured that he bested them to her place— broke into the house and awaited her drug induced, unsteady arrival." He finished. Reid's expression looked as though it fell into his shoes. "Hey, she didn't tell any of us." Morgan reached out and placed a hand on the young triple doctor's shoulder.

—Meanwhile: Back at the Hotel—

After having recounted her worst inner nightmare, an emotionally exhausted Elle could hardly keep herself on her feet and allowed Gideon to slip a strong arm around her slender waist and gently guide her up to the hotel room. He gingerly held her against himself while he fished in his blue jeans pocket for the key card and quickly inserted it into the brass lock. He opened the door and just as gently as he had had been with her, tugged her towards the king sized bed. She parted her lips in protest, yet allowed him to silence the words she wished to articulate with a finger.

"Thank you." She whispered as she lifted her long legs, lay back, and pressed her cheek into the pillow that smelled of him. Maintaining his caring way, he picked up the multi-coloured throw from the foot of the bed and tenderly brought it over her still form; thankful that she had finally allowed herself to succumb to sleep. He listened to her steady breathing as he ran his fingers lightly through her hair, smoothing the curls and then leaned in towards her.

"You're so much stronger than you'll ever know." He whispered in her ear and pressed his lips tenderly against her temple. "— and I promise you that I will do my best to keep you safe." He moved quietly about the room, stopped at the closet where his overnight bag resided and plucked from it a couple of 'catch up' files; then he went to the desk and sat himself in the comfortable seat. As the hours ticked by— Gideon would occasionally glance up from his work to be sure that she was all right. Not realising how trying the situation had been on him, Gideon felt his eyes slowly begin to feel heavy and he shifted in his seat, settled himself back and rested his elbow on the armrest, then his cheek in his hand— promptly falling asleep.

Elle slowly opened her eyes; it had been a bit of a struggle; as it felt as though she fought against heavy lids that wished to remain closed. Finally adjusting to her surroundings, she slowly sat up and the throw that Gideon had so lovingly tucked around her fell to her waist and she ran her fingers over her growling stomach. A smiled played across her lips as her eyes drank in the sleeping Gideon. Poor man, she thought as she grabbed hold of a corner of the blanket and tossed it aside. Getting out of bed, she went to the adjoining bathroom to freshen up— and emerged to find that he hadn't stirred. Ever so quietly, she made her way towards him— not wanting to scare him, yet unable to resist wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and kissing the top of his head, she felt him stir within her soft embrace. He turned his head and she leaned in towards him to nuzzle his neck.

"Are you hungry?" she inquired softly in his ear. He nodded and turned his wrist so that he could read the silver hands of his wristwatch.

"As a matter of fact, I am. I know of a nice restaurant that we could have a quiet dinner."

"Maybe the rest of the team would like to join us. That is, if they can pry themselves away from the case." She smiled lightly and sat on the narrow sofa in front of the desk. Gideon thought for a moment— he had previously made other plans for them this evening; however, he also knew how important for Elle that seeing them was to her.

"Well I suppose that I could give Hotch a shout. See how things are going." He picked up his cell phone.

"I promise that we won't talk about the case. I just thought that it would be nice. Like old times." She stood and went over to the bed and folded up the blanket while he dialled Hotchner's cell and waited for an answer.

"Things are going okay." She heard his end of the conversation. "Elle was wondering if the team would like to join us for dinner?" there was a pause while she assumed Hotchner was either checking with the team, or letting Gideon know; because all she could hear was Gideon's yes, and uh-huh here and there. "Okay, we'll meet up there in say half an hour?" Elle was happy that Hotchner had agreed. "You didn't say anything?" she heard a drop in his tone and tapped him on the shoulder. I'm going to get coffee from downstairs, she mouthed—assuming that the conversation had moved towards the case. He nodded and handed her the room key card.

"The team had already suspected." Hotchner replied simply.

"I suppose with the recent events being what they are." Gideon paused. "I should have appeared more detached."

"Oh no, that had very little to do with it. I usually make a point not to profile the members of the team— rose coloured glasses can really distort the truth. Besides, it makes it easier to work alongside one another if you don't know everyone's deep, dark secrets. Morgan just said that it was via observation that it had been a fairly easy conclusion. Is Elle there?"

"No, she's getting a coffee from the coffee shop downstairs." He replied. "Thanks for telling me that the team knows. I'm sorry I didn't share this with everyone. I was just unsure."

"Jason, you had your reasons." Hotchner smirked. "So we'll see you there." He added before closing the connection. Gideon chuckled and his thick eyebrows shot up as they often did when something amused him. Looking at his watch once more, he began to wonder what was taking Elle so long. All of a sudden, he found himself thinking of the worse case scenario; that the un-sub had seen her and decided to try once more to finish what he had started. Click. The sound of the lock was music to his ears as she carefully entered the room with two cups of coffee in hand.

"Thought you could use a little caffeine induced pick-me-up." She held out one of the cups towards him. He accepted it and removed the light plastic lid before carefully taking a sip.

"You remembered how I like my coffee." She smiled and set herself back on the narrow sofa. "The team is looking forward to seeing you this evening." He smiled. "I know they miss you— almost as much as I." She shook her head.

"Jason, I can't." she wrinkled her nose and placed the cup on the desk. "It isn't that I don't want to. Don't think that I didn't think about returning— and even if I did want to, there are clauses and whatnot that would most likely prevent me from doing so." She paused and he moved to sit beside her. She turned her body towards him. "What I'm doing is making a difference. I'm helping the victim's who don't have anyone to talk to. I love my job." He reached out and pressed the palm of his hand against her cheek. "I know that I've said this before— when I first joined the team, I felt a sense of happiness that I thought could never be matched. As time went along, I found myself resenting the gruelling twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five schedule. It had begun to wear me down." She reached out and placed her hand on his thigh. "Somehow, through everything; the torn and battered bodies, the kidnapped children, the raped women, they psychotic murderers— seeing you kept me sane. You kept me strong. It was you, who kept me going. If there is anything that I missed after I quit, wasn't the job— the excitement, the way it made me feel. It was you." She held his hand tightly between hers and then brought it to her lips.

"We had better head out. We're already a bit behind." He stood and pulled her up with him to her feet. He got their coats from the closet and she picked up her purse before they headed out.

"As they made their way towards the main door, Elle suddenly held him back.

"You know I just realised something." He somehow knew what she was about to say.

"They already know." He kissed her cheek and she shook her head.

"I should have known."

"I didn't tell them." His pause was quick and he opened the door for her. "Hotchner guessed and I suppose there were always little hints here and there."

"Well I suppose your mood for one." She said as they followed the host to the table. The team had been involved in some sort of 'heated' debate and fell silent upon their arrival. "Hey guys." She said with a bright smile and the conversation resumed.

"See Jason, we didn't scare her off." Hotchner teased quietly and Gideon nodded. He thought it would be interesting to see how long they actually would last without discussing the case and past cases. Once their food arrived, things continued well— Morgan kept asking Elle questions about what she was up to, J.J. mentioned a girls only movie night or maybe a shopping day, which Elle found herself agreeing to.

"How is Garcia?" she locked her gaze on Morgan, who looked as though the heat suddenly rose to his face.

"Fine, I'll let her know that you asked about her." he avoided her penetrating gaze and dug into his meal.

"Seriously, when did the two of you finally figure this out?" Reid inquired from his place safely between Prentiss and J.J. Elle looked down at her plate in thought, then turned her deep brown eyes towards Gideon.

"Figure what out?" he turned the question back to the team.

"Come on Gideon! You and Elle have had a 'thing' for a long time." Morgan's grin was toothy. Neither could think of an answer, if he had meant how long they knew that things were comfortable; then it really had been from the moment they had met— if; however, he meant in a romantic sense, neither could really answer that question.

"This is what I meant about scaring her off." He gave Morgan and Hotchner a quick stare.

"I thought that you were kidding. I mean, this is our Elle." Hotchner chuckled and the waiter returned to take their desert and tea or coffee orders. "Elle, you know that we mean no harm."

"I know." She replied and felt Gideon's hand on her thigh. The conversation during desert went as well as the main meal— with the topic of choice, Reid and the apparent lack of romance in his busy life.

"Well I'll let you all know if and or when that development takes place." He joked and everyone enjoyed another good laugh.

"I'm going to get some air." Elle whispered in Gideon's ear. "That way you can get your shop talk in." she stood. "It was so good to see you all again. Emily, it was good to see you under more pleasant circumstances." She added and they shook hands.

"I'm glad to have had the opportunity to meet you." Prentiss replied as Elle bid the rest of the team goodnight. They waited for her to be out of earshot and Gideon carved out a meeting time and laid out a quick game plan. "Have a good evening sir." Emily added as he slipped his coat over his arms and headed out to meet up with Elle.

"It's a beautiful night." Gideon broke into her thoughts.

"Isn't it?" she replied softly and they walked toward the parking lot. They get into the SUV and Gideon began to pull out of the slot. "You do realise that you don't' have to baby sit me, right?" she turned to face him and he stopped.

"I'm not babysitting you, Elle." He replied then shifted in his seat so that he could manoeuvre.

"I'm sorry Jason— it's hard not to feel that way. Essentially, you have been with me very literally twenty-four-seven."

"Hotch feels that I am a little too close to keep my emotions in check is all. Besides, it's probably for the best— and right now, it gives me an excuse to be with you." He pulled up to a red light and caught the onset of a blush that worked its way over her usually peaches and cream complexion.

—New York Police Department—

With a game plan under their belts, the team entered the precinct with a newfound vigour, a newfound sense of calm. The easy part was dividing the list amongst themselves— each would take a plainclothes officer with them which would allow them to cover more ground than had they merely partnered off. Garcia had been made aware of the situation and had readied herself for the first batch of interviews. Taking as many variables as they could into consideration, the team parted ways.

"Well as you can tell— my job has been very fulfilling. I help those who could not otherwise have families." Doctor James Wallace explained from behind his large desk. J.J. kept her recorder on, capturing his voice.

"I appreciate your time." She smiled and stood, he followed suit and shook her hand. The recognisable media specialist had sweetly convinced the doctor that she was looking to be a single mother and wanted to ask a few questions about the various methods and which would best suit a young woman in her situation. As they left the office, the plainclothes officer caught up with her— coffee cup in hand and questions in his eyes.

"What did you tell him?" he inquired and handed her a cup.

"Thank you. I used the wish to be a single mother to my advantage."

"I thought you were trying to see whether or not he was your un-sub."

"I was. I just thought it best not to alarm him. Garcia is keeping tabs on their financials. If there is any suspicion, we'll move in." she scratched his name off her list. "Garcia, did you get the upload?" J.J. waited for the frantic typing to cease.

"Hang on a second." She paused in her typing and checked the file. "I have it sunshine."

"Good. One down— feels like a hundred to go."

"Keep your eye on the prize." Garcia smiled brightly. "How is Elle doing?"

"I think she's holding up better than any of us expected. You missed having dinner with us last night."

"Oh don't tease me now."

"I hope you don't mind, but I suggested a girls movie night."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Garcia heard a light beep. "I have to go— other line. Keep up the good work." She pressed a button with the end of her funky pink flamingo pen.

"Talk to me sweet thing."

"Garcia, that's the first time you didn't have a quick one." Morgan's light laugh could be heard in his tone.

"Well how's this? Hey there hot stuff."

"Pretty tame when I think of some of the other things you usually call me."

"What do you have for me?"

"I'm uploading it now." He replied and she watched as the status bar flashed. "This is going a lot better than I thought." He dodged through a group of private school girls, who walked down the busy street nearly oblivious to the rest of the world.

"Perfection." She cooed.

"Isn't it? I just hope that we're not wasting our time."

"I highly doubt it. Gideon wouldn't have you guys taking precious moments if he didn't think that the result was worth it."

"You're right. I'll keep you posted."

"You do that." Her tone was lightly laced with the wink he could see in his mind.

Once a sufficient number of samples had become available, Hotchner thought if Elle was ready— she could begin the process of listening to them. He had hoped that their un-sub was somewhere at the top of the samples as they were slowly running out of tactics; that and the fact that some of the individuals were unavailable or away on vacation. The team remained out in the field, save for Hotchner, who met Elle and Gideon at the station.

"We have setup in the conference room." He instructed, as they walked through the semi-office like space. While Elle followed Hotchner and Gideon to the conference room, she took in the organised chaos that surrounded them— officers busy working on the mountains of paperwork, while others were chatting about the previous evenings Rangers game. Setting themselves around the table made Elle realise that whatever happened in that moment was it— and she suddenly paled; Hotchner's rigid expression softened.

"Elle, you don't have to do this." He rested a comforting hand on her arm and she looked up at him.

"I have to." She clasped her hands together, they felt colder than she thought she could ever have experienced. She tried to keep her facial features neutral, didn't want them to see her any more vulnerable than they already had. Her mind flashed images of people past and present as the thought of what hearing his voice might evoke within. She wondered if she heard his voice again that it would somehow make what happened to her more real— and that thought alone allowed fear to take grip of her and force her to question her own motive for going through the experience once again. Yet with Gideon by her side, she took a deep, cleansing breath and settled herself.

"Elle, honey— I'm here." Gideon had leaned in towards her and whispered in her ear.

"I know. Thank you." She seemed to straighten in the chair. Her body language contradicted the cold, almost expressionless façade she wore. A curt nod and Hotchner pressed the play button. First, they heard Prentiss' question and the rich tone of the subject. Hotchner pressed the pause button and Elle shook her head— it was then that she realised how time consuming this method was. Hours passed and still, she sat determined to listen to each and every interview. "No— his voice is too high pitched." She found herself dissecting the tone, the depth, the musicality; right down to the use of language— yet none matched what she heard in her head. The team was still out interviewing potential un-subs and Garcia kept the audio streams ready for her to listen to. Finally, Elle let her head fall into her hands. "This is getting you guys nowhere. There would have to be a more efficient way." She felt Gideon's soft touch, as he ran a hand up and down her spine.

"I teach computer programming."

"That's him." She repeated over and over again as Hotchner watched her go whiter than a sheet of paper. She involuntarily shook from the extreme cold that gripped her body. Gideon wrapped his arm around her and whispered in her ear— she could hardly manage to shake her head. "That's him, that's him, that's him." Her words short gasps and Hotchner thought that she might faint. He knelt in front of her holding a small plastic cup of water.

"You're all right. He can't hurt you." He assisted her with the water, and then Gideon took over while he plucked his cell phone from his suit jacket and called Garcia to save the file and then the rest of the team to cease their interviews. Gideon made a move to help Elle to her feet. She had to pull herself from him and run to the nearest ladies room. The combination of reliving the experience from the previous day combined with the stress and pressure she had put on herself was too much and her body reacted the only way it could— purge whatever had been consumed, which in her case, hadn't been that much. Sign be damned, Gideon thought as he slowly opened the door and heard Elle trying to regain her composure.

"Are you all right my dear?" he inquired and let the door close behind. He heard her sniffles and waited, leaning against the door. When she finally emerged from the stall, her eyes pink from the tears she had tried not to cry, she turned on the water and splashed it over her hot face before carefully sipping at the water she had managed to capture within her shaky hand. The paper towel felt like sandpaper against her lips and she tossed it into the garbage can. Slowly, she nodded her ascent and they headed back to the conference room for her to collect her coat and purse. Once she buttoned her coat up, she headed out on somewhat rubbery legs.

"I'm going to take her back to the hotel, she needs a hot bath and some sleep."

"You will also stay with her. I don't need you ripping the man limb from limb."

—Hotel Room—

Gideon closed the door behind them and helped Elle out of her coat before she dashed to the bathroom. He couldn't help but hear her through the door as she vomited whatever had been left from the last time. He hung their coats in the closet and stood outside the closed door and waited for a moment before gently tapping and slowly opening it. She was kneeling on the cold, white tile floor; one arm rested on the ridge of the toilet bowl— and sensing his arrival, she pulled the handle with a weak hand. He gently ran a comforting hand down her spine; then he went to the bathtub and turned the taps. Making sure that the water was hot, but not enough to scald her. In her dream-like daze, she weakly shooed him out of the small room and slowly undressed herself. She carefully stepped into the tub, one foot then the other and then sunk into the water, allowing her head to rest on the warm porcelain. What a baby, she thought as she picked up the white washcloth and placed it over her chest, covering her breasts from the cooler air that hovered just over the steam. She splashed the water over her body, then reached for the soap and lathered— running the washcloth over herself once more. Waiting a moment, she still felt unclean and lathered again— only when she ran the cloth over her body, it was so hard that the skin burned pink, almost to a vivid cherry red under her harsh touch. It was then that she realised that no matter how hard she scrubbed, she felt unclean.

"Elle, are you all right?" his gentle, soothing voice drifted to her from the other side of the door, reminding her that she was okay— that she was safe. Almost as if awaking from a trance, she took a breath.

"I'll be right out." She called and he heard water splashing once more and then the surge of water as the plug was pulled.

Elle took her time letting the water drain before getting out of the tub. She reached for the towel and rubbed it against her skin almost as harshly has she had the washcloth and then wrapped it around herself. Thankfully, her nightgown was hung on the hook behind the door and she slipped it over her head. When she emerged from the room— Gideon, who had been watching the local news, lifted his head from his chest and saw how tender her skin appeared.

"Oh my dear, what have you done?" he quickly rose and went to her. Holding her shoulders gently with his hands, he held her at arms length so that he could look at her.

"I couldn't." she stammered and clammed up, he felt her shoulders tense under his fingers and he pressed his lips against her forehead. Slowly pulling away, he looked in her eyes once more.

"What you need is some hot tea and some rest." He took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "I'm going to go downstairs and get you some tea." She slowly nodded in agreement, yet when he attempted to pull away— she wrapped her arms tightly around him. He could hear her small sniffle.

"Thank you for being so wonderful." She whispered and then loosened her fear laced grip and he carefully broke the embrace. With Gideon gone, Elle picked up the television remote and moved towards the bed to settle herself. She arranged the pillows, stealing those that smelled of Gideon, peeled the covers back and sat, then swung her legs up and arranged the blankets. With her head comfortably cradled within the pillows, she flipped through the stations in an attempt not to fall asleep— yet her heavy eyelids were winning the battle to stay awake; a battle not to dream of what had happened to her all those years ago. Closing her eyes, she lost— yet it was dreamless which was a blessing.

When Gideon returned, paper cups in a tray and two small bags with something sweet, he wasn't surprised that she had fallen asleep. After all, she had relived an experience that had probably been best forgotten and being as ill as she had been, probably wasn't very easy for her either. He grabbed one of the books from the small coffee table and placed it on the bed and then sat at her feet— watching her steady breathing for a moment before he reached out and gently ran a hand softly down her arm.

"Elle, honey you need to have something to eat." His soft voice lured her back to the waking world and she shifted slightly then slowly opened her eyes. When she sat up, she pulled the blanket up to cover her chest in modesty, he was unsure. Perhaps it was in an attempt to conceal the faint scar that still troubled her. He placed the bags on the large book and held out a paper cup.

"Thank you." She accepted the cup, pulled open the tab, and carefully took a sip. "This is perfect." He stretched himself across the width of the bed and drank his tea, then put the cup on the book so that he could hand her one of the small bags. "Cinnamon buns?" he nodded and she smiled as he handed her a bunch of paper napkins. While cinnamon buns where probably one of her favourite sweets, Elle really didn't feel like eating— her stomach still felt turbulent and sensing that, Gideon stole a bit with a smile that warmed her.

—New York Police Station—

There was a noticeable change in the team and the air around them as a vibrant surge of newfound energy swirled around them. They had assembled in the large office area, moved the large blackboard as a visual illustration. The plan had luckily woven together seamlessly, or so they hoped. Hotchner, as usual, held his position well in explaining the logistics of their position, while Prentiss and Morgan handed the 'tactical' aspect. Reid added his valuable input sparingly, helping the officers understand the significance of a swift, seamless execution of said plan. J.J. kept herself back to observe and listen, which would be instrumental in how she carefully worked her role into the situation right from the time of their subject's apprehension to his arrival at the station— making sure that his arrival graced the front pages of the print media and flashed across televisions in the breaking news. Officers shook their ascents, asked the appropriate questions and then paired off into their working units to wait further instructions.

"Gideon, what are you doing here?" Hotchner had been the first to notice his arrival and just as quickly ushered him into a vacant room. "I thought I asked you to stay with Elle."

"She knows how much I need to feel useful and asked me to help you." He leaned himself against a desk and crossed his arms across his chest. Hotchner paced for a moment.

"That may be; however, you're in no position to be unbiased." He stopped mid pace. "You are nearly as close to this as she is and I honestly wouldn't put it past you to."

"Make a rash decision? Compromise the investigation? Hotch, we're how close to nailing this bastard. I think I can keep it together." Gideon uncrossed his arms and leaned his hands on the desk to push himself up. "Besides, it isn't as if I'd shoot him."

"Oh that's just wrong Jason." Hotchner quipped.

"Isn't that what you were just thinking?" his question met with a hesitant nod. "Well then. I'm in." he added and headed out the door, leaving Hotchner in his wake to figure out exactly if he should pull rank, or not. Passion was possibly one of Gideon's faults that could lead to an ending undesirable to the team, especially to Gideon himself and Hotchner couldn't allow that to happen. He found Gideon with Morgan and Reid discussing a few details.

Meanwhile, while the team worked feverishly, readying themselves to set out their nets, a nineteen year old girl had just bid her friends a good evening and headed home down a familiar street towards her dorm. It was a chilly evening, winter refusing to let go and allow springs warmth to prevail. Holding the collar of her jacket around her throat, Janelle walked briskly towards the building. Usually, aware of her surroundings, she had somehow missed the shadow lurking behind— a shadow that moved stealth like. Fumbling with her keys, she dropped them onto the walkway and quickly bent to retrieve them. That was the opportunity, the perfect moment— when she least expected it. Picking the cold key ring in slender fingers, she finally stood and that was the moment that she felt the cold, sharp knife at her slender throat while his other arm snaked around her waist.

"Do as I say and you won't get hurt." He hissed in her ear, she tried to turn her head to face her attacker, but he pressed the knife harder, nearly breaking the delicate skin. She couldn't find her voice, fear gripped her in its possessive iron grasp. She swallowed hard and slowly bobbed her head to indicate that she agreed. "Open the door." He instructed and she did as she was told. "See or hear anyone— act normal or I'll kill you where you stand." She tried to remain calm while she did what he asked. "Your room." He squeezed her waist and she walked to the elevator. He tapped the up button and they waited. It was dark, it was late and he knew that there would be a very slim chance of their meeting anyone in the halls of the dorm— especially since he knew the dorm all too well. The doors opened and they stepped into the lift and she reached out to press her floor— he already knew and pressed it for her. With the knife no longer pressed to her throat, they arrived at her door. She fumbled with her keys again, shaking so hard that she thought that her legs would give away at any moment. Once the door was open, she felt a sharp prick and everything around her was unfamiliar.

"Good girl, just relax. Everything will be exactly what you've wanted." She heard his voice in her ear as he dragged her to the floor in a boneless heap. Somehow, despite whatever it was that he had given her, she knew enough that she didn't want whatever it was that he had in mind.

"No." she was finally able to murmur as she tried to fight the shadow off her. He pinned her arms down over her head, but she managed to break them free and flung her hand up towards him, making contact with his face. He only reacted by continuing to rip at the material between them— unwrapping her as if she were a gift, he pulled off her winter jacket. She continued to bat her arms and tried to knee him, but somehow her legs refused the command.

"Not to worry dear." He pressed his lips to her ear and she felt the heat of his breath against her skin.

"Please stop." She felt the tears as they slipped over the ridge of her eyelids and ran down from the outside corners of her eyes over her temples into her hair or onto the floor. He artfully pulled her top over her head and flung it aside the protest of her fist was met with a slap across her dainty face. She tried to bring her hand to her cheek, but he grabbed it and harshly squeezed the tender skin. Once she stopped fighting, he drank in the soft body, soft skin below him— her bra would be the next article of clothing to rid her of and once he opened the clasp and the satiny fabric fell away from her trembling body he watched and enjoyed the way her breasts rose and fell with each desperate breath.

"I know what you want. I've always known" He ran his lips down her neck, over her breasts sucking and teasing at the exposed skin— he had been sure to take his time to enjoy her body, the body he would take once again. He played with the top button on her jeans and in a swift movement yanked them down long quivering legs along with her lacy panties. "Just what I had suspected all along Elle— a young woman who knows just what she wants, just in need of the man to give it to her." he kissed her calf, then her inner thigh, her hip, and her stomach, working his way up her body and sliding his own over hers. He prolonged his intention for as long as he could and when the need within became too much to bear he satisfied himself while she continued to fight against him.

"Don't fight me. It makes it more pleasurable for you, if you relax." His voice raspy in her ear as his hands roamed down her severely bruised arms, down her aching flanks and then returned to her hair, where he tangled his fingers as he took from her what he needed to satisfy his own pleasure. As he worked the friction between them perfectly, he had made sure to cover her mouth with his own as she cried out nearly with him. Her body continued to violently shake along with his and he took a much-needed gulp of air before rolling off her to gather himself. Leaving her whimpering, curled up on the floor while he dressed himself, he finally looked down at her. Picking her badly bruised and somewhat broken body, he placed her in her bed and kissed her forehead gently.

"I've now made you a true woman." He whispered in her ear and inhaled her scent once more. Cupping her cheek with the hand she had tried to avoid touching her, he made sure that she was asleep as he knew that she would not recall the evening's event. Well, she would see the evidence of it. He had after all— been a bit forceful with her.

As he exited the building, he wasn't counting on one thing— Gideon and Morgan on foot patrol. While Morgan hadn't conducted the interview and Gideon had been out of sight during the investigation, both knew he was their guy. 'We don't have any backup', Morgan mouthed. Gideon wasn't listening, all he could see was the man who not only raped and killed over twenty young woman, but it was far more than that— he was the man who had hurt Elle. Morgan nodded and backtracked so that they could close in on their un-sub. Gideon stayed in plain sight, waiting for Morgan to get into position.

"Are you Professor Steven Reese?" Gideon inquired with a flash of his badge.

"Yes? Is there something that I can help you with?"

"Where is the girl you just assaulted?" his voice filled with steel.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Reese replied.

"Don't you dare mess with us!" Morgan chimed in from behind. "We have your address and its nowhere near here." The professor stood still. "Where is the girl?" the demand was heard from inside the building and a series of lights illuminated the various windows. He placed his gun in his holster and grabbed Reese's arm and twisted it uncomfortably behind his back.

"Does the name Elle Greenaway mean anything to you?" Gideon's inquiry shocked Morgan, but not Reese, who nodded.

"She was a beautiful young woman. We were in love, you know?" he added and Gideon's expression fell slightly. "Yes, I was her first." He added with a smirk that could only be described as 'pure evil'.

"You have a great deal of nerve doing what you did to her." Gideon shot back. "You raped her! You made sure that she wouldn't remember what you had done to her— and now, you're what? Forty something, and you're re-living the experience. Only this time it isn't the same— it isn't as good, and you have to keep ripping the innocence from young woman until you feel whatever sick thing it is that you need to feel." He stopped himself. "Morgan asked you a question."

"Oh my new girlfriend?" he inquired. "She's safe in her room." Gideon managed to follow the direction of his eyes and ran past him and Morgan to the building. Frantically pressing buttons until someone let him in, he started on the first floor and worked his way up until he reached the fifth floor. After nearly rousing everyone one the floor, he arrived at the only door that wasn't opened in the obvious chaos—the only door that no light could be seen from underneath. He tried the doorknob, it was locked and called through the door to no answer— he kicked the door in and fumbled for a light switch. He found Janelle murmuring something in a drug induced slumber. Grabbing his cell phone he called for an ambulance.

"We need whatever evidence you can collect. This bastard has to go away for a long time." Gideon instructed the paramedics as he brushed the hair from her face before they loaded her into the back of the ambulance.

"Yes sir." One of the paramedics replied and the other closed the door.

The news media were hungrily snapping photographs and taking live footage of New York's serial rapist/murderer. Why he hadn't killed his final victim baffled the team, Reid included, who stayed as far away from the flashing bulbs as he could manage. J.J. already had a statement prepared well before they brought their subject in. Hotchner exhaled the breath he had been holding when Gideon finally arrived.

"Thought I would do something didn't you?" Gideon stopped in his tracks when he saw who was standing beside him. "Are you okay?" he immediately forgot about his argument with Hotchner.

"Janelle Baxter was taken to the hospital. She will heal, that I know. Her emotional state will be another issue all together. I've asked Hotch to let me go talk to her with Emily. It might be what she needs."

"No, you have done more than enough to help us." Gideon protested.

"She is right. Captain Sylvan called and gave the go-a-head."

"Sylvan— as is Virginia PD Sylvan?" Gideon's eyes widened.

"It's part of my job." Elle said as Prentiss caught up with them. "Are you ready?" she and Prentiss made their way out towards and through the media circus to the car.

"That's our girl." Hotchner said under his breath and Gideon nodded his agreement. "I know that this is unsolicited and possibly unwanted advice, but you better watch that one."

"I know." Gideon grinned as the team began the process of clearing their case aids.

—Quantico, Virginia—

They sat at the dinning room table, the room itself was ill lit— save for several candles, their small flames danced, creating the perfect atmosphere for a romantic succulent meal. He had dressed the table in soft linens, and to her surprise had prepared the meal from scratch as well.

"You have never mentioned that you worked for Virginia PD." Gideon said. Elle smiled widely and set her wine glass down before answering.

"I was going to. The timing just never felt right." She replied and he shook his head. "For a profiler." She paused as he stood and lifted her to her feet, holding her to him, they swayed to the music that played softly in the background.

"I'm what?" he cooed in her ear with a laugh.

"Well, when it comes to what is directly in front of you, you can be a little thick at times." She laughed and they tenderly kissed.

—End?—

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A/N(2): I hope that this has been an enjoyable read. Questions or comments can be directed through the internal email system and I will gladly get back to you ASAP. Huge thank you to those who have read and left reviews (I always reply because further discussion can actually impact the direction of a story). 


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